


Despite What You’ve Been Told

by AlligatorEyes



Series: Tales of Sass and Win [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Body Dysphoria, Canon-Typical Violence, Flame Harmonization (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Flame Lore (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Flame Sealing (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Gen, Multi, Sass and Win Sidestory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlligatorEyes/pseuds/AlligatorEyes
Summary: On paper Sawada Inari isn’t more than a footnote in his brother’s life. Average and unimportant (according to his father). Reborn doesn’t understand what a grave underestimation this is until he meets the brat in person.A Sass and Win Side-story
Relationships: Reborn & Sawada Inari, Reborn & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Reborn/Sawada Inari, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Sawada Inari
Series: Tales of Sass and Win [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1435669
Comments: 435
Kudos: 2070
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Precious Rare and Unique, Storycatchers' Mafia games





	1. Always Read the Job Description

“Twins?” Reborn frowns as he reads through the dossier.

It’s more surprising than it has any right to be. Considering this deception has been engineered by Iemitsu of all people. He glances up to give the man stern look.

Vongola’s External Advisor leans casually agains the front of Nono’s desk and grins smugly down at him.

“Sure.”

The flippant response is entirely unhelpful and more irritating than anything.

“You said you had a son,” Reborn continues to prod, unwilling or unable to believe that Iemitsu, of all people, was able to pull off such a deception.

The idiot laughs, booming and grating, as he fishes out a familiar worn photograph from inside of his jacket. Reborn already knows what’s on it. He’s had the damn thing aggressively shoved into his face on more than one occasion and had to endure the man gushing endlessly about his beautiful wife and adorable ‘Tuna-fish.’

A wide eyed boy with fluffy brown hair and a stunned expression stares back at Reborn from the glossy square.

3.5 x 2.5.

Creased from years of adoration.

It’s never been replaced never updated with another image, meaning that this one has sentimental value. Why?

Iemitsu had once shot out an ally’s kneecaps for taking it from him. So the image was important enough to risk alliances and reprimand from Nono.

“My little Tuna-Fish~” Iemitsu says proudly.

Reborn resists the urge to roll his eyes. He wonders if Iemitsu realizes the danger he has put this boy in over the years. Probably not, he’s not the type to think about such things.

Reborn is just about to snap at the man to stop acting like an idiot and get to the point, when Iemitsu does something that he never has before. He unfolds the photo.

He could have sworn there was nothing on the back.

A wild looking blonde boy grins up at him pointing insistently at something beyond the lens of the camera as he appears to be motioning with his other hand to get his brothers attention.

“See,” the idiot crows pompously, “one son, two son.”

“And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me plainly?” Reborn snaps back at him.

Reborn scowls at the man. Condescending ass. He shoots a glare past him at Timoteo who has been watching this entire exchange silently. His lack of surprise means that he knew about this. Which isn’t so much shocking as it is annoying.

If he wanted Reborn to take this ‘job’ he could have made sure that the relevant information was laid out clearly and not buried within extensive and unnecessary paragraphs of Iemitsu blathering about his adorable son and his twin.

The twin hadn’t gotten more than two words.

‘Tsuna and his brother share a bedroom.’ That was it. That was the extent of the information that Iemitsu had divulged in the dossier about his other child. He had written three pages about his wife and the way the her eyes twinkle like starlight and other equally purple prose that has no place in a dossier.

He briefly considers snapping at Timoteo but...

The old man looks exhausted.

Which is understandable considering the circumstances.

Reborn had never much cared for Massimo. Timoteo’s second son was too much of snake for Reborn to like or trust, but he feels remorse on behalf of his employer.

Vongola Nono had loved all of his sons.

And now they were all dead.

For a man who prized family as much as Timoteo did it was a devastating blow. Which is probably why his own guardians rarely left his side these days. This meeting not withstanding.

They probably thought spending time with Iemitsu would help, the External Advisor was basically like a son to him anyway.

Nepotism at its finest.

...

Reborn had warned him. Back when he had been handed Enrico to shape into something respectable and functional. There was nothing resembling a warm brotherly relationship between those three.

He had seen it.

‘Nono, you have to talk to your sons,” Reborn had told him solemnly.

‘It’s fine,’ he had placated, ‘brothers fight. They will sort it out on their own.’

Coward.

The most powerful man in the mafia hadn’t wanted to look hadn’t wanted to see the truth.

Hadn’t wanted to see his children consumed by rage and greed and hate.

He had desperately clung to his ignorance until it was too late.

Reborn should have pressed the issue years ago. But even back then the old man had been in mourning.

What had happened with Xanxus had destroyed something in the once confident leader.

Betrayal has a way of doing that.

“Iemitsu,” Timoteo warns softly.

“What?” The buffoon whines, “I put in the important stuff. Don’t worry about the other one he’s not important. Tsuna is the one who will be Decimo after all.”

“Not important,” Reborn repeats slowly. Watching them both closely for anyhint that this was an elaborate joke.

No one ever learns from their mistakes do they?

Iemitsu just continues to smile like an idiot.

“He’s a normal kid,” he continues, “average grades, I’m sure he has friends or something too. If he tries to butt in on Tsuna’s training ignore him, he’s flame deficient anyway so it would be pointless to make an effort with him.”

“Deficient?”

If he wasn’t watching so closely he would have missed the brief flash of guilt across Timoteo’s face. It’s gone in an instant, but Reborn is a master of reading people.

Something is being hidden from him.

“Leave the boy to have a normal life, Reborn,” the old man says as he stares down at his sceptre twirling in his hands. “I doubt he would even be able to comprehend past the curse anyhow.”

Reborn stares at both of them until Iemitsu starts to fidget, he scratches at the back of his neck and averts his gaze.

Good, the idiot should never feel that cocky around him.

Reborn glances down at the dossier again and starts flipping though the pages. Incase there is any other important bits of information that Iemitsu had obfuscated.

It is quite possibly the worst target profile that he has ever been handed. And that is saying something as he had once been given a job scrawled messily on the back of a stained napkin. But considering this was written by Iemitsu it almost made sense.

He usually has Lal write up all his reports for a reason.

“What’s his name,”Reborn asks as he frowns at a copy of Tsunayoshi’s most recent report card.

Failures across the board.

He really is going to have his work cut out for him with this one. Even Dino hadn’t been this bad.

Dame-Tsuna indeed.

“...Tsunayoshi?” Iemitsu says slowly.

As if Reborn is some sort of idiot.

This time he doesn’t even try to repress the spike of irritation. A quick calculation or angles and applied force run through his mind as Leon shifts in his hand, a conversion of energy to shape into a form to suit Reborn’s desire. 

An instant later he slams the heavy mallet into the side of Iemitsu’s empty head sending the man flying across the room into the bookshelf where he is buried under the Homeric Classics that Timoteo inherited from his mother.

There.

Now he feels better.

“Not him moron,” He grinds out letting a touch of his tightly reigned in power seep out. “The other one.”

“...Who?” Iemitsu groans woozily.

“Your. Other. Son.” He enunciates slowly.

“Oh... uhhh... Ietsuna? No wait, Itsuki? No that’s not right either it’s....”

“Inari,” Timoteo cuts in as he looks up from his sceptre, “His name is Inari.”

“That’s it!” Iemitsu hoots with a overzealous clap, “Inari!”

...

Does he realize how cruel he’s being? To so callously disregard his own children in the presence of a man who has lost his own. Reborn doubts it. Iemitsu isn’t the type to knowingly lash out like that.

He doesn’t have it in him.

That doesn’t mean he wont do it unknowingly though.

“Inari,” Reborn tries out the name. It feels familiar, but he can’t for the life of him think of why that might be the case. He hasn’t been to Japan for years now and even when he was there he doesn’t think he met anyone by that name.

“I wanted to name him Ietsuna after my old man, but Nana had other ideas,” he laughs, “She won that fight, so he’s Inari, after her father.”

An unhappy expression crosses his face as he says that, and he crosses his arms in a defensive huff.

“Weird guy, hates my guts. Hated my guts since day one.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Reborn shoots back sardonically, “It couldn’t possibly be because you knocked up his teenaged daughter and then left her alone to raise your spawn.”

“Hey!”

Iemitsu never really grew out of the self-important teenager phase.He’s in his forties now and he still can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his action affect other people. He relies too much on his ‘loveable goofball charms’ as Lal call them, to get him out of trouble.

She’s just as enamoured with the ass as the rest of his followers. She really has no right to be so flippant about that criticism.

“It’s not like I’m a bad husband,” said goofball complains, “I send money every month, I call to check in, I’m faithful.”

For a long moment Reborn doesn’t say anything. He just stares unblinking and lets Iemitsu’s defence hang their. So maybe he will actually have to think for once.

The longer the silence stretches the more the buffoon starts to sweat and twitch.

“How’s Basil?” Reborn inquires pleasantly.

Iemitsu pales, averting his gaze guiltily.

“That’s not-“

He starts and stops. He can’t even fabricate an excuse, just continues to stand there flapping his mouth open and shut like a fish.

Timoteo sighs and rubs his eyes. He isn’t as bothered by Iemitsu’s marital indiscretions as Reborn is. Most likely, because he himself had four sons with four different women, only one of whom was his wife.

Loyalty has always meant more to Reborn personally.

Not that he had much more than loyalty to offer any theoretical partners these days.

Not that he would ever dream of perusing anyone with him while he was trapped in this freak show of a body, this joke of an existence, this-

2 + 4 + 8 + 16 + 32 + 64 +

He breathes.

At the very least Iemitsu should have more respect for his wife. But then that was his opinion and Reborn had always been something of an outlier amongst his criminal peers.

Reborn sighs and adjusts his fedora.

Not that academia had been much better.

In many ways it was worse.

At least assassins only tried to kill you.

“Will you take the job, Reborn?” Timoteo asks, interrupting Iemitsu’s useless stuttering.

“Of course,” Reborn answers, “I’ll make sure that Tsunayoshi is up to standards in no time.”

He hops down from the chair and has to fight through the moment of nauseating vertigo. It happened sometimes, when he thought too much about things that he would rather forget.

Best to forget that there had ever been anything before this.

Stupid. Pointless. Weakness.

While Timoteo is momentarily distracted with Iemitsu, Reborn holds up the dossier to Leon and lets his companion consume it whole. He will have a chance to review it further on the flight, but he has a feeling that he will have to conduct his own research and profile for his new student.

And the brother.

Sawada Inari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	2. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s not what she seems.

“Hello there little boy,” Greets the mousy haired woman who answers the door. She smiles down at him before crouching down to his height.

Reborn does his best to repress the sight of exasperation as he looks back at the woman, who he is fairly certain is Iemitsu’s wife. At the very least she matches the woman in the photograph from the dossier. She’s a lovely woman who looks younger than her thirty-one years.

Sawada Nana.

“Are you lost?” She continues, “Do you need help finding your mama?”

No, he doesn’t. He knows exactly where his mother is. She is resting peacefully in a quiet little grave in a cemetery North of Chiavari under the careful watch of a rather severe looking angel. And if there ever came a time when she wasn’t in her quiet little grave he very much doubts that a housewife in Japan would be able to do very much about that.

If his mother ever saw fit to rise from her grave Reborn fears for the safety of the world.

“No ma’am,” he answers, and sends a silent prayer that she has enough WILL to understand that much. Iemitsu hadn’t exactly painted the most flattering picture of his wife’s intelligence in the dossier, and Reborn would rather not have to start his tenure in the Sawada household by being drug to a local police station and being declared a missing child.

That situation has more than lost it’s novelty at this point.

“I’m the home tutor. Your husband contacted me regarding your son,” he continues, “Tsunayoshi I believe.”

She stares at him wide eyed, “Goodness, aren’t you a little young to be a tutor?”

He’s not. He’s really not. But at by this point he knows that it is completely pointless to go down that road.

“I have my teaching credentials with me if you want to see them,” Reborn replies, in what he hopes is a pleasant tone. “My name is Reborn.”

Nana continues to stare at him and smiles. She hasn’t stopped smiling since she opened the door. It’s actually starting to become somewhat unsettling.

He doesn’t think she has even blinked once during this entire interaction.

“Is is really?” She asks and he feels his pulse skyrocket without explanation.

She doesn’t do anything else, just continues to stare at him. Unmoving and unblinking. He is still standing on the doorstep. He’s outside, but suddenly it feels like there are walls closing in around him.

A pressure in the air.

A presence that is almost familiar.

“You should come inside,” She says, her voice loosing the veneer of warmth.

Should he? Should he really? He very much doubts that. His instincts are screaming at him to flee. Flee from this tiny housewife that he has never met before. And Reborn hasn’t made it this long by doubting his instincts.

Though the argument could be made that the only reason he had made it to this exact point in his life was by doubting his instincts at the worst possible moment.

Leon coils himself tightly around his wrist which does nothing to quell the growing sense of wrongness in this situation. His partner has never coward from anything, but at this moment he feels fear.

Nana looms over him. Head cocked to the side and she SMILES at him and-

* * *

* * *

* * *

_I never thought one of his **things** would come here._

_Not willingly at least._

_Do you have any idea where you are, **thing**?_

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Would you like another cookie, Reborn-chan?” Nana chips and holds out the platter of cookies to him.

Reborn looks at the massive pile of perfectly balanced chocolate chip cookies, looks down at the half eaten cookie in his hand, and then looks back up at Sawada Nana who is still smiling sweetly at him.

He takes another cookie.

“Grazi ma’am,” he says.

“Such good manners, Reborn-chan. I can already tell that you will be a good influence on Tsu-kun, silly boy always forgets his ‘please’ and ‘thank yous.’” She pauses briefly to look him over again, “why don’t you call me Mama, Reborn-chan?”

He looks up to meet her cheerful smile and glittering eyes.

“Maman, then,” he quickly acquiesce to her request.

Iemitsu had certainly married an excitable sort.Reborn hardly remembers arriving on the doorstep to the Sawada household before she had swept him inside in a whirlwind of pleasant chatter and promises of cookies and other sweets. He thinks at once point she might have actually picked him up without warning and he might have briefly blanked out from that lovely spike of anxiety.

When Reborn had come back to himself he was seated at the kitchen table. He had reached 377 which probably wasn’t the best sign. But Leon was dosing comfortably on his shoulder and there weren’t any bullet holes in anything so he could at least rest easy with the knowledge that he hadn’t pulled a gun on Iemitsu’s civilian wife.

The kitchen is filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies. She has already pulled three batches out of the oven since he’s been here. She has also been gracious enough to give him a small cup of coffee.

“It will probably be half an hour or so before the boys get back from school so we have some time to get to know each other. Iemitsu didn’t really tell me much other than he found an ideal tutor for Tsuna.”

A good opportunity to gather some actual information about the idiots wife. The information that Reborn had been given about Sawada Nana was fairly limited to the flowery odes that Iemitsu had written and had seen fit to include in the dossier for reasons that were beyond Reborn’s understanding.

He had long since given up on understanding the head of CEDEF.

“You must be quiet the prodigy to have a teaching degree as young as you are, Reborn-chan. I really was surprised when to see you at the door.”

“Education is important,” Reborn answers simply. He really has no other words to say about his current state of being. He exists. He has a few degrees for whatever they are worth.

“I’m glad you think so,” She says, “If you don’t mind me asking how exactly do you know my husband? There can’t be many reasons why a world traveling traffic guard would know a prodigious young teacher like yourself.”

She takes a moment to smile fondly while looking off into the middle distance, “Why, the last letter he sent me said that he was in the Antarctic directing penguins on their new migration route.”

Reborn has to take a moment to stare at the woman vacantly. Traffic guard. That was Iemitsu’s civilian cover story. A globe trotting traffic guard.

What’s worse is that she actually seems to have bought the lazy fabrication. Idiot, an absolute idiot. If he was going to fabricate a career to tell his wife about the least he could have done would have been to include something resembling logic.

“Some of the workers in the... traveling work crew have young families with them. I was hired by your husband’s company to help them keep up with their schoolwork while they were away from home.”

Thankfully, Reborn has never had a hard time coming up with bullshit to tell people. It is irritating that people are willing to believe such outlandish lies and yet no one can seem to wrap their heads around the fact that he is not, in fact, an infant.

But that would be too easy wouldn’t it.

“What a good idea,” Maman says with a smile, “I’m glad that you have experience working under less than ideal situations. Tsuna isn’t exactly the easiest student in the world to work with.” She shrugs a little guilty, “I’ve tried to help him out myself, and so has Inari, but Tsuna has problems with the basics and neither of us can explain concepts in a way he can understand.”

Reborn makes a mental note to evaluate his new student for potential learning disabilities once they get started. Iemitsu had framed it like the boy was just lazy but the way Maman is talking about it makes him think that there is more to this situation than meets the eye.

He had somehow made it to his second year of middle school by the skin of his teeth and if he was going to get any further something was going to have to chance. Lucky for Tsunayoshi, Reborn has more than enough experience working with difficult, and downright impossible cases.

...

Inari.

This is the first time the other boys name has been spoken in the conversation. But not the first time he has been referenced. But even without the verbal confirmation Reborn would have no problem telling that another boy life’s here.

Contrary to his Iemitsu’s uncaring and dismissive attitude toward the boy there is no such erasure going on in the household. There are pictures of the twins on every wall. Most of them are candid shots of them together engaging in various activities.

Others show the boy on his own. Most of these feature Inari in a baseball uniform posing with a grin stretching across his face.

He looks like trouble.

On the wall next to the front door there are pegs to hang hats and coats. There are four that have personalized labels underneath them: Mama, Inari, Tsuna, Grandpa.

A rather nondescript hat and coat hang from the peg labeled grandpa (Inari senior if memory serves.)

Once thing that does catch his eye, or rather doesn’t catch his eye, is the complete and utter lack of photographs of Iemitsu in this household. It stands out even more starkly considering the multitude of other family photos that decorate the walls.

“How does your other son do in his studies?” Reborn asks as nonchalantly as possible.

“Inari does fine with his studies,” Maman answers, “He has a lot of energy and gets into trouble if he has to sit still for an extended period of time. He starts getting jittery and gets himself scolded by his teachers for not paying attention. He’s a sweet boy, they both are.”

Definitely trouble Reborn concludes. He can tell by the expression on Maman face. But he will actually have to meet the boys in person before he comes to any hard conclusions.

He still can’t believe that a descendent of Vongola Primo would be Flame deficient. There was defiantly something off about the way Iemitsu and Timoteo had spoken about that little fact that bears further investigation.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. Maman’s expression visibly brightens at the sounds of shuffling feet and muted conversation.

“Boys come into the kitchen there’s someone I want you to meet!” She calls out to them.

A moment later the Sawada brothers walk into the kitchen.

Or rather they stumble and limp into the kitchen.

One of Tsunayoshi’s eyes has swollen shut with a large dark bruise. Inari has an arm wrapped around his midsection casually yet protectively.

They’ve been fighting.

Which is actually somewhat encouraging. At least he knows that the boy who has been dubbed Dame-Tsuna is not a complete pushover. If the boy is willing to fight without being tricked into it he already has a leg up on Dino.

“Tsuna, dear, I know you have been struggling with your schoolwork recently and so I’ve taken initiative and hired you a home tutor.”

Reborn takes a slow sip of his coffee and considers what it might mean that Maman said ‘I’ and makes absolutely no mention of Iemitsu. The idiot should probably make a trip home sooner rather than later. But he is hardly going to go out of his way to give a grown man relationship advice.

Besides, he has a job to to now.

“Ciaossu, Dame-Tsuna,” He greets his new student and tries to ignore the intense look that the younger has fixed on him. Timoteo has warned him that it would be unlikely that the boy would be able to perceive anything beyond the veil of the curse. He was prepared for scrutiny.

“My name is Reborn and I’m here to turn you into a leader for the next generation.”

As he says this he locks eyes with Inari just to see what he might be working with.

The boys pupils have contracted to pinpricks. He sways dangerously.

And then he hits the ground as his mother and brother call out to him and rush to his side.

Well... He’s never had someone faint at the sight of him before.

Interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus they meet. 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


	3. Damages Claimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You aren’t asking the right questions...

“PAINT THE HOUSE WITH MY DYING WILL!!” Dame-Tsuna roars and finally stops his endless complaining and lollygagging.

It wasn’t a difficult task that his mother had set for him. But the way his new student tended to procrastinate and complain about everything. One would think that he had been asked to push a boulder up a mountain, not put on a coat of paint on the paneling.

And it wasn’t even that he didn’t want to help his mother with the housework. He would bemoan being a useless son, thinking that was enough of an excuse not to even lift a finger and try.

It’s like Dino all over again, a lazy, spoiled brat who is used to not having to work. Having everything handed to him.

Tsuna had almost been prompted into action when his younger brother had appeared to poke and prod him out the door with the can of paint and the rollers. The cheerful words of encouragement seemed to give his useless student some willpower.

It faded quickly though.

...It keeps fading much too quickly.

“That seemed a bit excessive,” Inari comments idly as he drops his own paintbrush and sits back onto the lawn to watch his brother work.

“I might not be entirely up on my ‘home tutoring protocol’ but I don’t think guns and magical transformations are typically part of it. I could be wrong though,” The boy grins at him in a tired, cheeky (and so unsettlingly familiar) way.

He’s still doesn’t entirely know what to make of the younger twin. The boy had been mostly incoherent for the past week. He had awoken at four in the morning and had proceeded to wake the rest of the household by cackling maniacally as he hung upside down from his bed flipping through a glossy book with what looked like black magic.

He’s still not sure what that book is but from what he has been able to glean it is full of strange and otherworldly creatures with various numerical values associated with them...

What’s stranger was the complete lack of reactions from Maman Dame-Tsuna to said maniacal laughter. Reborn himself had been startled out of his light doze ready to shoot someone only to see the boy flailing about in excitement.

He is a strange brat.

Inari still hasn’t entirely recovered from whatever it was that had made him so ill a week and a half ago. Which made it all the more irritating that Dame-Tsuna was so willing to sit back and let his brother take on the work. A boss took care of their family, and despite what Nono and Iemitsu wanted there was no way that this boy wasn’t going to be part of Dame-Tsuna’s family.

They were too close for that.

“I’m here to turn Dame-Tsuna into the Tenth boss of the Vongola Family,” He tells the boy, who continues to stare at him, “If you think of interfering with my work I won't hesitate to shoot you.”

He brandishes Leon, in the shape of a handgun, at the boy. The grin only widens in response.

His reaction to firearms is mildly disturbing. Either he has no sense of self-preservation at all or he isn’t taking the threat seriously.

Reborn supposes that it could be the curse warping his perception. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But, no, that did not add up.

Reborn hasn’t had many interactions with the younger Sawada boy since his arrival in Namimori, but from what he has observed Inari is hardly ‘deficient.’ If anything Tsunayoshi seems to be the one who’s having trouble keeping track of things.

His student only seems to catch every third word that he says and ignores most of it because he thinks he’s too good to learn from ‘a baby.’

Inari laughs, bright and cheerful in the face of the threat. Interrupting Reborn’s increasingly irritating train of thought.

“I don’t think that’s going to turn out the way you think it will, dude.”

He cocks his head to the side and grins at his brother, who in his Dying Will state has decided to take the task a step further and repaint the second floor as well.

At least Dame-Tsuna has some initiative 

“But if you want to shoot me with one of those nifty magic bullets of yours I’m game. It looks like fun.”

Reborn fixes him with a flat look and stares.

He’s tempted to shoot him with a Deathperation bullet if only to prove his own theory correct. If this boy is flame deficient Reborn will eat his own hat. It had seemed like an outrageous claim before Reborn had met him, but now that he has it seems like an even more ridiculous claim.

But there is a chance that he might be wrong.

Reborn is a hitman, a killer for hire, but he has his principals.

He won't kill a child.

He is capable of quite a bit, but he isn’t capable of that.

And despite how dismissive Iemitsu has been of the boy Reborn very much doubts that he would take his untimely death well. Not that Reborn particularly cares about Iemitsu. Their mother, on the other hand, is a lovely welcoming woman and he would not put her through something like that.

“Perhaps another time,” Reborn tells him, just as Dame-Tsuna’s flames die out abruptly and leave the boy dangling from the top of his mother's trellis.

“HIEEEE! Inari help!”

“Don’t worry Bro-Bro, I’ve got you.”

Inari flips himself up of the lawn with practiced ease. He doesn’t show the least bit of strain from the beating he had taken a week earlier.

It’s curious.

But at the moment he is more concerned with Tsunayoshi’s continued issues with accessing his flames. It should have only taken one Deathperation shot for him to start harnessing the power on his own.

He should be able to access something.

He can’t though.

Reborn has shot him with three Deathperation bullets at this point. If the first hadn’t been able to start using them on his own. To tap into his potential. But, no, every time the result is the same. An explosion of rage, an intense single minded focus, and pure sky flames.

And then they are abruptly extinguished when the effects of the bullet wear off.

It’s not that Tsunayoshi isn’t producing flames, but they are flimsy and unfocused much like the boy himself. There is no doubting the Sky Flames, the legacy passed down from Vongola Primo.

But they are smothered before output.

The implications that arise from this are, quite frankly, sickening.

“You got this Tsu, just focus on one foot at a time.”

“I’ll fall~”

“And if you do I’ll be here to catch you,” Inari answers his brother's ridiculous fear of falling five feet into soft dirt with patient compassion.

And Reborn watches as he talks his brother through a simple set of motions. Until Dame-Tsuna starts moving at a steady rhythm downward. Until his feet are on the ground and he collapses in exhaustion.

Inari sits down next to his brother and ruffles his hair affectionately.

“That was so cool, Bro-Bro,” He laughs, “You were, like, on fire... but literally~”

“Hieeeee.”

Timoteo and Iemitsu must be insane to discredit the importance of this bond.

And they must both be going senile if they think they can keep secrets from him.

Reborn is known as the best for a reason. And contrary to popular belief it isn’t the power of his body that made him formidable.

It was his mind.

* * *

* * *

“What’s wrong with him?” Reborn asks.

He pitches his voice lower and colors it with a taste of threat. He speaks carefully, as not to trip up on the lisp. Iemitsu has an irritating habit of giggling like a hyena when the shrunken vocal cords slur his words in a disgustingly adorable way.

And the fact that Reborn had once snapped his femur in half for it hadn’t deterred the idiot in the least.

That he annually forgot about their existence and needed to be reminded didn’t make dealing with the man any less nauseating.

Lal has turned the reminder into fine art at this point though.

“Wrong with who?” Iemitsu responds blithely.

“Your. Son.”

“Inari?” He says, apparently able to remember to boy's name this time. “I told you, ‘flame deficient,’ they’re always a bit... off, right? Just ignore him.”

... while the boy is odd, he isn’t ‘that’ kind of odd. And Inari is not the topic of this call.

“I mean Tsunayoshi.”

“My adorable little Tuna-Fish?” Iemitsu gushes, his tone instantly brightening, “He’s such a cute little guy isn’t he?”

...

How old does Iemitsu think his children are?

“He can’t seem to access his flames,” Reborn says, cutting to the chase.

“Hmm?” Iemitsu makes a vaguely curious sound, “The old man gave you the bullets, right? He should be fine with those.”

“The bullets synthetically accelerate flame production. It should have only taken one use to allow him to access them on his own. The bullets aren’t designed for long term repeated use.”

There is silence on the other end of the call.

“So I’m going to ask you again Iemitsu; what is wrong with him?”

“It’s the seal.”

“Seal,” Reborn repeats, and he feels a cold pit in his stomach, “What seal.”

“The old man put a seal on his flames back when he was a kid. He was a precocious little brat, just like his dad.”

He sounds much too flippant about that to understand the implications of what he’s saying.

Flame sealing isn’t a common practice.

It was something done to criminals, the worst of the worst.

It’s wasn’t something done to children. And certainly not meant to remain in place for years.

... It created damage.

“Placement?” Reborn asks softly, plans are already rushing through his mind he will have to rework lesson plans to compensate for...

“Forehead I think? Does it matter?”

Brain damage.

“Why was it placed?” The more information he has the better he will be able to create viable workarounds for his new student. If ordinary teaching methods aren’t going to work he would just have to design better ones.

He is so caught up in his planning that he doesn’t realize that Iemitsu hasn’t answered until nearly a minute has passed.

“Iemitsu?”

“That’s something you’ll need to take up with Nono,” He says cheerfully, “and if you somehow manage to get a straight answer out of him, loop me in.”

The flippancy vanishes and the lightness in the man's voice take on a dangerous edge.

"Because I would LOVE to know."

The receiver is slammed down and Reborn is left listening to a dial tone.

He breaths, he counts, he thinks of circles, of denominations of seven, of imaginary zeros.

And he hangs up.

It explains so much about Dame-Tsuna. Why it takes such high stakes just to get him to complete the simplest tasks. Why he has trouble with multi-step problems.

His normal production of Dying Will Flames is not enough to break through the threshold of the seal. It takes artificially accelerating production to get him to output...

... Obviously, neither of Iemitsu's sons were ever meant to take on the mantel of Vongola. If Dame-Tsuna had been Timoteo wouldn't have gone through the trouble of crippling his will.

...

He had known something was wrong, but he hadn't expected something quite so dramatic.

“You okay there, dude?”

Familiar eyes, familiar smile, and no associated memory for context.

“Mind your business.”

The boy throws up his hands in submission.

“Yikes, no need to bite my head off. Mama says dinners ready, come down if you want food.”

He twirls on his heel and leaves the room.

The situation isn't unsalvagable. Not by a long shot. Reborn has plans, and if Timoteo and Iemitsu are going to play games and think they can get away with lying to him... well, Reborn doesn't see any reason to play by their rules or suggestions.

He can still hear Inari's footsteps moving down the hall.

And Reborn finds himself slowly following after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reborn hasn’t even scratched the surface of the fuckery that’s going to hit him in Namimori. Just wait until he actually gets to know the human disaster that is Sawada Inari.
> 
> Let me know what you think so far :)


	4. Caffeine Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a moment early on in their acquaintance that would set the groundwork for friendship. Sometimes it’s the little gestures that make a difference. 
> 
> (Concurrent with Ch 2 of Sass and Win)

He desperately needs some coffee.

Reborn realizes that the headache he feels is entirely imagined. But the irritation isn’t.

While Dame-Tsuna’s learning difficulties can easily be attributed to the will seal that Nono, for god knows what reason, placed on his brain, Reborn is certain the same cannot be said about his belligerent and disrespectful attitude. Not to mention the endless, relentless complaining. He has killed men who have bitched less then this.

“HIEEEEE! LEAVE ME ALONE YOU CRAZY BABY!” Dame-Tsuna shrieks, as he flees into the pantry and slams the door in Reborn’s face.

The corner of his eye twitches as he stares at the closed door and the smiling cat on the magnetic board that hangs on it. It’s covered in shopping lists and sappy notes from Maman to her sons.

He takes a calming breath and slaps a placid smile onto his face and turns away from his hopeless wuss of a student. Unless of course he is being shot with a Deathperation Bullet or his twin is in some sort of peril. Then he is almost half way manageable and isn’t likely to throw a tantrum because Reborn is attempting to teach him history. Granted the history of the Vongola is filled with bloodshed and violence, but the lesson had only been tangentially about that.

Reborn can never tell from one moment to the next if Dame-Tsuna has potential or not. It’s locked behind Schrödinger equation. And while using Inari to jumpstart his students defensive, protective drive, had breathed astonishing results, he is loath to repeat the experience.

It’s a cheep ploy and will only lead to animosity in the long run.

And besides that...

Reborn sighs. He will need to rework the motivation factor again. It’s inconvenient that it all hinges so heavily on heightened emotions and artificial supplements.

Neither method is reliable. It bypasses chaos straight into the realm of inconvenience.

He needs coffee. The delicious smell of ground beans and a fresh brew is wafting from the kitchen and a coffee break has now jumped to the top of his list of priorities.

Narrowly followed by: Don’t shoot the irritating teenager with real bullets.

“You have two hours, Dame-Tsuna. Feel free to spend them cowering in the pantry if you like. But if you’re feeling productive and want to attempt to complete your history homework, I just might consider going easy on you when I get back.”

As he turns on his heel and walks away from the door he hears a muffled whine of ‘Hieee~’ from within the pantry. Followed by a, ‘stupid spartan baby,’ that leaves his skin crawling uncomfortably, though he manages to keep the placid smile on his face.

Reborn doesn’t remember the last time he’s had the physical realities of the curse thrown in his face so often and so carelessly. For all that Dino was a hapless idiot in the beginning, he, at least, had the manners. Dino had quickly learned to respect Reborn’s position of authority, regardless of how strange it might have seemed to him.

And while he hadn’t quite developed the will to perceive through the veil of the curse he had been nearing that point. Or at least he had stoped paying attention to it. Drawing attention to it.

It clashes too dramatically between what he knows, what he refuses to know, and what he has done his best to purge.

Obviously Dame-Tsuna has no way of knowing how ill it makes him. Nor would he care much for the comfort of his tormentor. Reborn suspects that if his new student realized he would be spewing it more often than he already did.

Honestly, the only thing saving him from a truly hellish training regimen is-

“Here,” Inari gives him a crooked grin, he pushes a mug of piping hot coffee across the kitchen table in his direction. “You look like you need this more than I do, dude.”

The mug is an obnoxious shade of pink and and is inscribed with the word ‘princess’ that sparkles. And it is easily the most beautiful thing he has seen today. More for the promise of caffeine than the aesthetic of the cup.

Reborn perches himself on the edge of the table, across from the brat who’s grin has now grown wider, and he takes a long drink.

He realizes that his dependency on caffeine must be truly tragic if has managed to transcend his natural healing factor, but he’s earned the right to an addiction at this point. Besides he’s not the only one, and it’s less questionable than what he knows some of the others have gotten themselves into.

“Thank you,” he responds, finally.

“No problemo, oh glorious Overlord. I was serious when I said you look like you need it.”

Reborn quirks an eyebrow at the brat and quickly finishes off the rest of the mug and sets it back down on the table. 

“How magnanimous of you, Ragazzo,” He deadpans.

“Yup, that’s me, I’m a giver,” Inari chatters, reaching across the table to drag the mug back toward him, “And I in no way just poisoned you for setting me up to be kidnapped by the world’s most incompetent criminal element. That is totally not a thing I would do.”

The brat finishes his cheerfully threatening monologue and flutters his eyelashes at Reborn.

He really is a little shit.

It’s a good try. And there are mobsters that would fall for it too. Fortunately, even if poison was an actual part of this equation it would have little to no effect Jon reborn. His flames are too powerful and autonomic that damage of any sort is something of a novelty.

He’s could put on a hell of a convincing show though. That was how he met the ‘Poison Scorpion’ the first time. Mad woman that she is, she had enjoyed his performance a little too much. Which made things exceedingly uncomfortable whenever they crossed paths these days.

“Nice try, brat,” He says, flicking the boy in the forehead sending him back to a proper upright position.

The jolt of static that he receives in return has become almost expected at this point.

“Ow,” The brat says flatly and rubs the point on his forehead.

Reborn doubts it actually hurt in the least. Inari had remained standing after getting clocked by a two-by-four. And he had almost resisted the effects of the mallet. Hardening, physical reinforcement, is one of the traits of Lightning flames.

He’s almost certain of it now.

Certain that Sawada Inari’s so called ‘Fame Deficiency’ is more likely an issue of Iemitsu and Timoteo being unfamiliar with inverted Flames. The brats output is almost non-existent but there is definitely something there, it just seems much more internally focused than the norm.

Particularly for a Lightning.

...There is also something else that doesn’t quite fit. Not with Reborn’s theory. Not with what he has been led to believe.

Almost as if-

“I am here to please,” Inari says, rocking back in his chair, “Though now I do have some truly tragic news for you. Much worse than the threat of imaginary poison.”

The brat pauses for dramatic effect, meeting Reborn’s eyes. And he feels that pull of... something again.

When the brat doesn’t continue Reborn realizes that his participation is required or the performance will not continue.

“And what would that be?” He inquires, colouring his voice with faux concern.

It’s no hardship to play along. Reborn has always had a fondness for theatrics and Inari has a talent for dramatics and a strange charisma.

It’s also such a breath of fresh air to be spoken to as a...

Not as a child.

Not as a strange, deformed, inhuman thing.

But the boy speaks to everyone the same way. It doesn’t mean anything.

And yet.

“That, dear Overlord, was the last bit of coffee we had in the house,” Reborn’s thought process is violently derailed at that and stares back at the boy mutely. “But fear not good sir. For thanks to the aforementioned terrible criminals I have recently come into a large sum of money. Part of which I shall use to procure us some more caffeine.”

He stands dramatically from the table and quickly rinses out the ‘Princess’ mug before twirling on his heel to face Reborn again.

“Which is a really long fucking way of saying; Yo, I’m going into town wanna come with so you can pick out some shit that you actually like to drink and not the generic crap that I get, because I’m a cheap piece of shit?”

Ah, there’s the defensive, foul-mouth. The swearing will inevitably always interrupt whatever eloquent ramble the brat goes on. Reborn isn’t sure if it’s intentional or some sort of verbal tic. It might be a combination of the two.

Maman is very forgiving of her son’s foul-mouth. The most she ever does to scold him is a soft tap on the head and giggling reminder of:

“Don’t swear, Inari-chan.”

It’s obvious that she dotes on both of the boys. But Dame-Tsuna is at that stage where he is desperately trying to show his ‘manly independence’ and somehow thinks that showing an attachment to his mother is some blow to his masculine pride. Inari has no such hang ups and easily indulges his mother’s affection.

Out of the two of them, the brat has more self confidence and maturity.

Inari continues to stare at him levelly. Not even the least bit intimidated by Reborn’s own vacant meaningless gaze.

Though he also stared down the barrel of a GLOCK without so much as flinching and dealt with being kidnapped by known gang members with blithe indifference. Reborn has since concluded that the brats attitude toward threats to his life falls more toward impressive than worrying. Mostly attributed to the fact that he has proven capable of handling himself in such situations. 

The brat had taken a two-by-four to the head and barely flinched. Reborn would be lying if he said that he hadn’t found that moderately impressive. 

“I’ll come,” Reborn decides, as he casts a look back toward the pantry door.

Dame-Tsuna’s cheer of celebration has him rolling his eyes.

“Sweet,” The brat grins and rushes down the hall to tear open the pantry door, revealing his brother frozen in a plainly obvious eves-dropping pose.

“You want anything from the market, Bro-Bro?”

“Oh, um, hamburger?”

“You got it. Let Mama know where we went if we’re not back before she is done with her work.”

“Kay.”

Then the brat slowly closes the door once again. Leaving his brother alone in the pantry.

Ridiculous.

“Alright, dude, lets roll out.”

* * *

* * *

Reborn perches himself on Inari’s shoulder as they move through town. It doesn’t feel as unsettling as it has been lately. Which is a relief. He doesn’t particularly want to contact Shamal. Resetting the block is an unpleasant experience and now really isn’t the most opportune time. He’ll wait until mirror become an unbearable obstacle.

It should give him a few months at least to set up a routine with Dame-Tsuna’s education.

He listens with half an ear as the brat chats away.

The boy talks continuously; to himself, to anyone who happens to be around him at the time. He has his own dialect and slang that Reborn still hasn’t entirely been able to decipher. Though judging by the looks on the faces of Inari’s family and friends, he isn’t the only one.

It isn’t unpleasant.

The gift of speech isn’t a bad one to have in the mafia, and every family needs to have at least one member who can negotiate. Dame-Tsuna is lucky that he didn’t have to search too far to find such a person.

“-Mama makes great coffee, really she does. She doesn’t really like drinking it though. Neither does Tsuna. Bro-Bro always makes this ‘face’ I’m sure you know the one. It’s the same one he makes when someone says homework. Which means that I usually just buy the instant shit, which it fine, nothing wrong with instant coffee if that’s your jam. Though somehow I doubt it’s YOURS. And now we’re going to take a detour.”

The brats soliloquy abruptly derails as he takes a hard left down a side street to avoid a figure that Reborn has made note of since he began his surveillance of Namimori Middle School.

Hibari Kyoya.

The head of the schools so called Defense Committee.

A young man with a rather impressive criminal skill set and the violent streak to match. Dame-Tsuna was absolutely petrified of him. Which of course means that Reborn will have to force him into the path of his useless student sooner or later. He’s much too useful a potential asset to pass up.

“Avoiding your problems, Ragazzo?”

The brat snorts, “Hardly, dude. I just don’t really feel like going another round with the demon lord today. I have better shit to do with my time. Don’t worry someone will put him in his place eventually, Hibari Kyoya is a fucking prick and like a fucking dog with a bone. He never fucking lets anything go it’s irritating as all hell.”

It really is fascinating how different the ‘twins’ are. Reborn is tempted to label it as a difference in confidence. But it’s more than that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Sure, you do that,” The brat snipes back sarcastically, “Have fun when he starts coming at you with his bludgeoning sticks.”

Which is a completely normal thing to say to a ‘toddler.’

When Timoteo had warned him that the boy would be completely blinded by the curse Reborn had resigned him self to that. To constantly being misheard. Being seen through...

Maybe that’s what this is. Perhaps the brat is so blinded by the Arcobaleno curse that he’s seeing straight through it.

But, no, it doesn’t work like that.

“And here we are,” the brat stops, and motions flamboyantly to the visually intriguing facade of the Mermaid Cafe.

“It wouldn’t be entirely out of place in the nineteen sixties,” Reborn finds himself saying as he looks over the truly gaudy exterior facade of the building.

“Save your criticisms until after you’ve tried the spice latte, Overlord, or you will one hundred percent feel like an ass for making such a rash judgment. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to judge a-OW!”

Reborn smacks the boy upside the head. It wont do to have the brat get too lippy with him.

Though, having the chance to carry on a coherent conversation with someone without having to twist himself into impossible shapes and train them relentlessly to perceive and retain... it means more to him that he cares to admit.

“You’re no where near the level you would have to be to criticize me, Ragazzo.”

“Whatever,” Inari snickers, “just remember who introduced you to the best coffee shop in town, man.”

“We will see, brat.”

And even if its anecdotal. Even if the boy has no idea. Reborn appreciates being treated as an adult.

As a man.

Even if that life is just a memory of a dream at this point. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have briefly emerged from a never ending cascade of paperwork, team meetings (one of which was four hours and involved robots) to give this little gift. 
> 
> Let me know what you think :) 
> 
> Until next time~


	5. The Informant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you receive ‘the care package,’ boss?” Gabriella snickers.

“Did you receive ‘the care package,’ boss?” Gabriella snickers.

Reborn resists the urge to roll his eyes. He keeps a bead on Dame-Tsuna who is flailing about as ‘the care package’ as Gabriella so erroneously labeled as a ‘care package’ him hurls dynamite at Vongola’s last viable heir.

All things considered his student isn’t doing too badly against ‘Smoking Bomb Hayato’ (and Reborn is certain that the kid had given himself that ridiculous epitaph). He’s not entirely sure how or why Shamal’s wayward apprentice came to Japan, but if nothing else he is proving to be decent entertainment.

Tsuna would undoubtedly disagree considering he has suffered the majority of the wannabe assassin’s wrath. The kid has potential, but he certainly isn’t anything like his older sister or Shamal for that matter.

And for all that he’s generally hopelessly uncoordinated, Dame-Tsuna is doing a decent job of holding his own even without using a Deathperation bullet. Sure he’s scraped himself up and fallen into a thorn bush, but he hadn’t face-planted on any dynamite.

Reborn is going to consider that a small victory.

“Have I done something in particular to irritate you?” He inquires as pleasantly as possible, “kill one of our lovers? Forget your birthday?”

She snorts, in that horribly unladylike way that reminds him of the little girl who used to throw apples as mobsters back in Rome. He’s blocked out quite a bit of his life before this, but he hadn’t quite been able to make himself forget the little urchin he had given his name to.

It had taken so long for her to remember him. To see him as anything other than a lost child. And perhaps that had been more painful than he would ever be willing to admit.

“You left me here without any work to do,” she whines dramatically, “Vongola won’t even give me any decent contracts. The old man just had me following around some brat from the Gesso family for days. And all he did was go to candy shops. It was soooo booooooring~”

Reborn actually rolls his eyes this time.

Though he can’t imagine why Timoteo would be interested in the Gesso of all families. While they aren’t allied with Vongola they aren’t really a troublemaking Family. From what Reborn knows of them they generally keep to their own territory.

“I mean the least he could have done what have some sort of torrid affair. Rob a bank. Or, you know, kill SOMEONE, as is customary in our line of work. The most indecent thing that the kid did was eat marshmallows.”

Gabriella continues to complain and Reborn listens with half an ear. He tries to think of any reason why Timoteo would be interested in targeting the Gesso, or this allegedly dull boy Gabriella had been tasked with following.

“HIEEEE!” Dame-Tsuna shrieks, and slams his fist into, ‘Smoking Bomb’ Hayato’s nose and Reborn abruptly loses track of that train of thought, because the two boys go tumbling into a scattering or lit dynamite.

He takes aim and fires the Deathperation bullet, and sits back to enjoy the chaos as Dame-Tsuna embraces his Dying Will.

“If you’re so bereft of entertainment why send me Shamal’s apprentice?” He asks once he’s certain neither of the boys are in immediate peril. “And to that point why does he seem to believe that assassinating Nono’s heir will allow him to claim the title.

“Because Shamal dumped him on me and I don’t have any fucking clue what to with problem children. And apparently he’s an idiot who believes any story a random informant tells him.”

“Language,” he scolds reflexively, “and incase you’ve forgotten I already have a student.”

“What? Aren’t you supposed to be the best? One extra kid too much for you to handle, boss?”

She certainly must be in a mood if she’s getting this lippy with him. 

“Hardly, but this job already came with a surprise extra.”

Not that Ragazzo is a problem per-say. No, that’s a lie. The brat is probably the most problematic thing that he has encountered since coming to Japan. He has adapted amazingly well to everything that Reborn has thrown at the twins regardless of how much danger it puts him in personally.

Reborn is almost impressed.

There is also something so infuriatingly familiar about the brat. Perhaps it’s the way he speaks? Though Reborn is certain that he has never encountered someone quite as loquacious as Inari before. Ragazzo has very little in the way of a verbal filter.

He’s definitely a strange one.

More than willing to fight low class criminals or run a marathon at the drop of a hat, and yet he will sit nicely in detention and watch while his brother fights a potential assassin alone.

From his position in the tree Reborn can see the brat watching through the classroom window with a faintly amused smile on his face. Not even the least bit apprehensive of the situation.

Just fondly watching on.

“Ah, Inari right?” Gabriella goads knowingly.

The entirety of his attention abruptly refocuses on the phone call. There is no way that Gabriella should know that name. Considering the secrecy that Iemitsu has created around his children. Though knowing Gabriella is might be just that she’s gone snooping where she doesn’t belong.

A common occurrence but he would prefer she didn’t do so while he was on the other side of the world. At the very least Andrew and Marco should be keeping her from committing acts of treason against their current employer.

“Where did you hear that name?” Reborn asks placidly.

“Around~”

“Gabriella.”

She’s quiet. Guiltily quiet. Only not guilty, because Reborn doubts that Gabriella has ever felt guilt in her life. She’s a born con artist and criminal and ballsy enough that she had stolen politician’s, mobster’s and actual royalty’s credit cards to go on shopping sprees.

On multiple occasions.

“What?”

And now she is pushing her luck.

“Where did you hear that name?”He asks again, voice low and dangerous as he can make it in this ridiculous body.

“I went drinking with Iemitsu,” She finally admits and Reborn makes a face at the sound of the idiots name, “He’s a chatty drunk, you know that.”

Though not so much as she might believe considering this was a secret that Iemitsu had kept for almost fifteen years. And now he’s going to start running his mouth? Reborn hasn’t lasted this long in this business by ignoring when things don’t add up.

“Apparently,” He relents, for the time being at least. Dame-Tsuna and the smoking brat seem to be running out of steam. Which means it’s about time for him to step in. Shamal’s brat is a piece of work, but Reborn is certain that they can smooth out some of the rougher edges.

He watches as Hayato starts to bow at Dame-Tsuna’s feet, making his student flail about even more. However, he manages calms down enough to help his would be assassin to his feet.

A smile quirks at the corner of his lips.

Even if he excels at literally nothing else, Tsunayoshi has a good heart. A rare thing to find in the mafia and probably a trait that most in Reborn’s line of work would see as a weakness.

It’s not.

He should have tried harder to impress that lesson on Enrico.

Reborn thinks he did fairly well with Dino. Not that he had a chance to see that though. It irritates him that he had to leave a job undone, but Dino, for all that he can be a hapless idiot sometimes, is a grown man now and has a trustworthy Family to watch is back.

The same can’t be said about Dame-Tsuna. Not yet at least. From what Reborn has observed his new student is lazy when it comes to building and maintains relationships, but this new development shows promise.

And he’ll make sure that Tsunayoshi becomes the best possible Decimo.

“Stop hanging around with that idiot,” He tells Gabriella, “I’ll find something interesting for you and the boys to investigate soon.”

“Please and thank you, boss~”

He pockets his phone and leaps down from the tree onto Tsuna’s shoulder.

“Good job, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn jibes, as the boy yelps, “You’ve done well to recruit your first subordinate.”

“Subordinate!?” Tsuna cries in dismay as he looks from Reborn to Shamal’s brat kneeling at his feet looking half-petrified, “But-“

“It’s the rules,” Reborn lies, “The defeated party becomes the subordinate of the victor.”

In reality, most bosses would execute attempted usurpers on sight. The Mafia isn’t particularly kind when it comes to such things. Judging by the look on the kid’s face he’s entirely expecting to be shot.

“But- But- But!”

“I SWEAR I WON’T LET YOU DOWN, TENTH,” Hayato wails, launching himself at Tsuna’s knees knocking him back onto the pavement.

“HIEEEE!”

* * *

* * *

As they make their way back to the Sawada residence, with Tsuna drooping and half asleep and Hayato Gokudera in toe, Tsuna’s phone dings.

‘Go home and go the fuck to sleep, Bro-Bro.’ Inari texts, ‘Before you walk out into traffic or some dumb shit <3<3’

Reborn quirks an eyebrow at the message before Tsuna pockets the phone again, after nearly dropping it in exhaustion. He worked hard today despite the handicap on his will. Reborn is almost proud.

Reborn pulls out his own phone again and quickly inputs the number.

Considering the brat, he will probably come to regret this.

‘Watch your mouth, Ragazzo,’ Reborn types out carefully. “I’ll make sure Tsunayoshi is safe. It is my job after all.’

Not even a full five seconds after pushing send is he hit with a rapid and nonsensical influx of messages beginning with:

‘ASDFGIKALEKCHDIJ’

And ending with.

‘Fuck, Dude, u no I’m gonna abuse the shit out of this right?’

A brief and genuine smile creeps across Reborn’s face as he reads the lighthearted threat.

He really is a terrible brat isn’t he?

Of that Reborn is certain.

‘Pay attention when you’re in class, Ragazzo.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ll be sure to pay very close attention to the asshole committing academic fraud. It’s a joy beyond joys to have this blowhard condescend to me about how fucking brilliant he is while he couldn’t even add his way out of a wet paper bag let alone teach someone how to do it. I hope you realize that the faculty at this school is like at least 50% responsible for Bro-Bro’s crap grades.’

Reborn had, in fact, taken note of the sad state of Namimori Middle School as an educational institution. He had come to a similar conclusion. Considering his student spent a great deal of time at school, Reborn had been investigating to make sure there weren’t any immediate threats.

Instead he had uncovered various scandals amongst the faculty including evidence of Dohachiro Nezu’s fabricated test scores and degree. Reborn has found that it’s always useful to have a few pieces of blackmail at the ready in case of emergency.

‘Not to mention that he’s currently getting his flirt on with Mrs. Nakamura out in the hall and that woman has an unnatural fucking hate-on for me. I swear to God she’s going to try and murder me one day.’

‘Stop complaining, brat.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. See you later, man.’

“Who are you texting so much?” Tsuna asks with an ear splitting yawn.

“Business,” Reborn replies simply. It seems like Inari has lost interest for the time being. He really is a mouthy little shit. Even when he isn’t technically talking.

It’s almost endearing.

‘Oh and BTW the dog’s going to get out an chase Tsu,’ The message reads and Reborn frowns at the bizarrely cryptic message. 

Until they turn down the next block and are met with a chihuahua charging.

“NOT AGAIN!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little pieces moving in the background that help make up the big picture.
> 
> Let me know what you think :) I always love hearing from everyone!
> 
> Until next time (Premonitioning, Russian Roulette gone wrong, and ASSASSINS! )


	6. Expect the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet he still fails to anticipate Sawada Inari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concurrent with chapters 4 and 5 of Sass and Win.

“Why is it bubbling like that?”

“Tsuna-sama, don’t add that!”

“Wha-“

Reborn doesn’t even bother turning when a series of explosive little pops go off in the bedroom behind him. There is nothing in the ingredients that he gave Dame-Tsuna and Shamal’s kid that could be used to make anything more dangerous than cherry soda.

Chemistry isn’t precisely his area of expertise, but he knew more than most. He had been given ample reason to learn as much as possible to ensure that he would never be caught off guard again.

Besides, knowing how to counteract the Poison Scorpion’s ‘loving’ creations had come on more than one occasion... Having her decide that this meant that they were ‘meant to be,’ was an unfortunate, uncomfortable and entirely unforeseeable consequence of that.

Shamal’s kid coughs in the sweet smelling smoke as Dame-Tsuna shrieks and bounces back onto his bed and away from chemistry station that Reborn had set up fro them.

Reborn can’t entirely repress the smile that quirks the corner of his mouth as his student begins a useless cycle of overblown panic. The kid has been poking at his nerves entirely too much today. And Reborn had even been benevolent enough to retrieve his little toy for him.

He casts a quick glance over at the little yellow monkey plush that was carefully set down on Dame-Tsuna’s bedside table with great care. Leon has curled up next to it under the warmth of the lamp and is lightly dozing.

“REBORN! HELP!” Tsuna wails, “IT’S BUBBLING EVERYWHERE!”

“You already have everything you need to solve the problem, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn says, taking pity on the kids as they circle. “I’m sure you can figure it out~”

“HIEEE! SADISTIC BABY!”

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8-

And there goes his benevolent mood.

“Don’t worry Tsuna-sama! I’ll save you!” Hayato declares and proceeds to tackle his new ‘boss’ off the bed and out of the way of the growing mass of cherry soda froth that has slowly begun to consume the coffee table.

“AH! Gokudera-kun!?”

“You boys better figure that out soon before it becomes corrosive,” Reborn taunts and hops out the window onto the damp roof.

It won’t be. At the most it will make everything in the room sticky for a time before turning into a harmless film.

“HIEEEEEE!”

He trusts that at some point one of them will notice the set of instructions that he had left out. Completely in the open. Right next to that little monkey toy that they had spent so much effort to rescue only scant hours ago.

At this point this lesson has become less a supplementary chemistry class and more an exercise in observation.

One of those skills was slightly more imperative for a mafia boss.

And apparently he had more work cut out for him than he originally thought.

Reborn takes a moment to take a breath the cool air as he leaves the teenagers to work the problem on their own. He trust that if things start to get too out of hand Leon will intervene. His partner seems to have taken a liking to the Sawada boys.

One more so than the other.

And on that topic, it seems like Ragazzo has finally returned from wherever he had run off to.

Reborn watches intently as the brat rounds the corner onto their street looking like a waterlogged dog. His usually wild blond hair is plastered to his face and his oversized hoodie is hanging off of him even more than usual.

He must have gotten caught in the downpour.

Reborn presses himself into the shadow of the house and takes a moment to observe the brat. Despite being obviously soaked to the skin he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get home.

Inari’s head is down.

His shoulders are slumped.

The usually cheerful brat looks completely dejected as his steps slow and he stops two houses down and rubs absently at his wrists. Even from this distance Reborn spots the wince.

Reborn frowns.

He’s unprepared for the pang in his chest while he watches the brat slump against the concrete wall and start stretching his hands open and closed.

Open and closed.

He could fix that...

He couldn’t.

He can’t.

His flames don’t work that way. He has never been able to fix anything. Reborn functions at too much of an inverse and his output is much too massive to ever do anything but cause damage.

Reborn aggressively buries the impulse to try and infuse. He has no wish to burn the brat from the inside out. He has seen the aftermath of that on more than one occasion and he doesn’t particularly wish that on Inari.

And yet there is still nagging feeling that he could.

Ridiculous.

This strange little town must be getting to him.

It’s strange to see the young man who is usually so cheerful and animated looking so withdrawn and morose.

His frown deepens as the brat straightens and looks around himself defensively, before shoving his hands in his pockets and speed walking the rest of the way to the gate.

Reborn is back inside before Inari reaches the front door.

...

Somehow Dame-Tsuna and Gokudera have transformed it into a massive jello cube.

He shoots a look over at Leon who casually languishes on top of the list of instructions that Reborn had left behind, smugly munching on a piece of the jello.

“You’re just as bad as the rest of them sometimes,” he comments idly.

There’s no answer.

There never is.

* * *

* * *

The brat went and got himself sick.

Of course he did, running around in the wet and cold while he was already exhausted.

When Inari failed to make an appearance back in the bedroom in a timely manner Reborn had gotten curious. Usually, he would have come running to his beloved brothers ‘rescue’ long before this point. Dame-Tsuna has certainly been kicking up enough of a fuss.

He finds the boy flopped face down on the couch looking flushed and dazed, and for the second time Reborn is faced with the bizarre impulse to reach out and ‘heal’ him.

He aggressively alters his mental trajectory by visualizing wave functions and the components of momentum. A grid in five dimensions. And points on a vacant plane.

* * *

* * *

“Y̷o̴u̷r̷ ̶t̴a̵r̶g̸e̵t̶ ̷i̸s̷ ̶c̵o̸m̴i̴n̶g̸ ̴i̴n̴t̶o̷ ̶r̵a̵n̵g̷e̶. 3̶4̷0̷.̸5̴ ̵d̸e̴g̴r̴e̵e̴s̸.”

“I̵ ̶s̷e̶e̵ ̴h̴i̸m̵.”

“D̷o̵n̷’̶t̴ ̴m̵i̵s̴s̵,̵ ̷S̵u̷n̷s̷h̷i̸n̶e̸.”

“Y̷o̸u̴ ̴d̷o̴n̷’̸t̶ ̶t̵r̴u̴s̸t̵ ̴m̷y̸ ̸a̵i̸m̵,̵ ̶C̷o̵n̴t̶r̴o̸l̶?”

“I̴ ̸t̴h̷i̷n̷k̷ ̸y̸o̶u̷’̸v̶e̷ ̶b̵e̶e̵n̵ ̸s̶t̸a̵n̸d̸i̷n̸g̴ ̴i̶n̸ ̷t̵h̵e̴ ̶f̸r̸e̸e̵z̶i̵n̸g̷ ̵r̸a̶i̶n̵ ̷f̵o̵r̵ ̴t̴h̴e̷ ̸p̶a̵s̶t̶ ̶f̷o̴u̵r̷ ̶h̵o̷u̶r̷s̵ ̶a̸n̷d̸-̴“

* * *

* * *

Reborn blinks as the thought is swallowed.

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610

He catches sight of his hand in his peripheral and his stomach rolls.

That is NOT his hand.

987, 1597, 2584

His hand doesn’t look like that.

4181, 6765, 10946, 17711

It’s not-

17711, 28657

It’s not-

“Whassit?”

The brim of his hat is suddenly Reborn’s line of sight has been broken and he can breathe again. It takes him longer than it should to adjust his fedora to glare at he brat.

Inari is shooting him a crooked and unfocused smile and continues to waggle his fingers playfully.

He really is a little brat.

“Watch where you’re putting your grubby hands, Ragazzo,” he scolds lightly, “you don’t have permission to touch.”

He means it teasingly... mostly.

There have been entirely too many instances of random people trying to pick him up as if he was actually an infant and it is always a revolting cognitive experience that he will do everything in his power to avoid.

The way that Inari’s expression transitions from playful to stricken regret as he instantly retracts his fingers tells Reborn that he took his words as anything but teasing. It’s appreciated.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

His words are slurring slightly from the obvious fever and exhaustion. He really doesn’t look very well. Inari’s eyes are glazed and unfocused. His skin is flushed and clammy looking. And despite being obviously feverish he is shivering ever so slightly.

The obvious anxiety isn’t making him look much better.

“It’s fine, brat,” Reborn interjects as the apology goes on and becomes slightly more nonsensical.

“S’not right,” Inari slurs after a moment of seemingly intense thought and attempted burrowing into his cocoon of blankets.

“What isn’t,” Reborn asks amusedly as he watches the brat glower at the brightly pattered blanket when it fails to cooperate with his rapidly deteriorating coordination.

Inari gives up and flops back onto the couch and continues to mumble something about a jar, and books, and hexagons of all things.

His eyes eventually drift closed even though he continues to ramble in low slurred mumbles. Somehow it seems fitting that the brat would continue to monologue even in a situation such as this.

It’s difficult not to feel a little bit fond of him.

Despite being an antagonistic little shit he is also a very genuine and compassionate young man.

And absolutely ridiculous.

Reborn sighs and takes a moment to methodically rebutting his suit. Adjust his tie. Straighten his fedora.

After a long moment he deliberately looks at his hands again and feels... nothing.

Better.

It’s unpleasant, but not yet unmanageable. Though perhaps it is time to call Shamal. Before this actually becomes a problem that he can’t manage. Reborn has never been a man who could leave a problem alone.

If it needs fixing he will fix it.

Not matter how god awful the experience might be.

He’s just about to leave, it has gotten suspiciously quiet upstairs and he should probably make sure that Dame-Tsuna has actually managed to complete his chemistry homework and hasn’t coerced his new minion into playing video games. Hopefully, they have at least managed to finish cleaning up the mess that they made.

Reborn casts one more glance up at Inari and meets a set of glazed and half lidded gold eyes and a lazy grin.

“‘Y’really are such a snappy dresser, dude~”

Reborn cant help the smirk that forms on his face. He quirks an eyebrow at the brat.

“You think so, Ragazzo?”

“Fuck’yeah, man~” He trills and Reborn is hit with a nonsensical flash of pride. He’s always been something of a vain man. In someways it has been his greatest downfall. “Yer super fuck’n cool. You KNOW that~”

Reborn chuckles lightly as the fevered complements keep coming. Flattering little shit. The brat would probably be embarrassed if he was cognizant enough to keep track of what he’s saying.

Eventually, Inari manages to talk himself to sleep and Reborn quietly leaves the room.

It will be interesting to see how Dame-Tsuna handles school without his guardian watching over him.

* * *

* * *

Reborn has done some cursory intelligence work regarding the staff and student body of Namimori Middle School. It seemed prudent considering how much time his charge would be spending in this building.

For the most part he found exactly what one would expect in a small town middle school. Ordinary students and teachers who had grown up in the town and had the bare minimum requisites for teaching. With the exception of the much despised English teacher.

According to the records that Reborn had been able to dig up on Anri Nakamura, who insisted on being called Mrs. Nakamura by her students. She had apparently gotten married and moved to England years ago only to return early in 2001 to begin teaching.

There was no mention of her husband in the town.

Nor was there any sign that they had gotten a divorce.

A little strange, but noting more than small town intrigue.

Reborn was much more intrigued by the number of flame active students at the school. The most notable of which was Hibari Kyoya the head of the Disciplinary Committee.

Another that has caught his eye, though to a much lesser extent, is Yamamoto Takeshi. Wolf’s son. Yes, even Reborn had been somewhat surprised to see that a once notorious assassin was running a family friendly restaurant.

Interesting, but it seemed like the boy had been actively avoiding the Sawada boys so he hadn’t paid too much attention.

But he had noted enough to realize that this behaviour was out of the ordinary.

Reborn watches from his hiding place as Yamamoto Takeshi approaches Dame-Tsuna with a brittle smile on his face.

He proceeds to sling his good arm around Tsuna’s shoulder and get in close.

Reborn’s eyes narrow as Tsuna looks noticeably uncomfortable with the closeness and the contact and proceeds to shoot increasingly anxious looks at the taller boy.

Yamamoto Takeshi is personable and popular. One of the rising stars of the school baseball team. And while he has never previously engaged in school yard bullying that doesn’t mean that he never will.

It doesn’t take long before the ‘Smoking Bomb’ brat rushes in and herds Dame-Tsuna away from the ‘intruder.’

Reborn keeps eyes on Yamamoto as the boys move out of sight.

That look on his face...

That might be...

Trouble.

* * *

* * *

Reborn is very aware of his students current strengths and weaknesses. And at the moment the weaknesses most definitely outweigh the strengths. Regardless of that fact Reborn will readily admit that the kid has a good heart.

Tsunayoshi is not mentally or emotionally equip to deal with a classmates suicide attempts.

And yet he takes it upon himself to reach out to Yamamoto when he’s teetering on the edge of the abyss.

Reborn doesn’t move from his hiding place. He has his handgun at the ready and a Deathperation bullet in the chamber. He’s ready to shoot if the situation deteriorates any further.

In many ways Tsunayoshi is the worst person to be doing this.

... But he is also the only one trying anything.

There is a crowd of students on the roof that just watch and chatter amongst themselves. Speculation, rumours, and accusations. Nothing helpful.

This is his new benchmark.

This is what Sawada Tsunayoshi is willing to do. Able to do. Even with willpower hamstrung as it is.

He will reach out to someone in pain.

He reaches out a hand to Yamamoto, and after a long tense moment the boy reaches back.

And then he slips.

* * *

* * *

Reborn calculates the probability of Yamamoto surviving the fall.

The probability of Tsunayoshi catching him even if he fires the bullet.

In a split second he runs the numbers; velocity, trajectory.

If he shoots there is a 40% chance that Tsunayoshi will be able to save him before he’s either killed or crippled by the impact.

Reborn anticipates countless possible scenarios, life has taught him to expect the unexpected.

* * *

* * *

“INARI!?

* * *

* * *

And yet he still fails to anticipate Sawada Inari.

* * *

* * *

“He said he ‘premonitioned’ it,” Dame-Tsuna complains loudly to Maman after returning home from the hospital. “What does that even mean?!”

Maman just smiles as she finishes dishing out the lovely meal that she made on such short notice.

“Sometimes you just get a feeling, Tsu-kun.”

“And go running out into the pouring rain and up the side of a building?! How could he have possibly known!?”

Maman hums and takes a bite of her curry.

Reborn doesn’t say anything.

He suddenly finds himself frozen in place as a sinking feeling take hold of his stomach and doesn’t let go.

“What does ‘premonitioned’ mean anyway?”

It means that this ‘job’ has just become exponentially more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Reborn really has no idea. But he will soon :)
> 
> We’re getting close to breakpoint chaos now~
> 
> Let me know what you think :) I always love hearing from everyone!


	7. Premonitioned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something that is being concealed here.
> 
> Something that should be obvious, but continues to escape him. 
> 
> Something in the back of his mind that tells him he should know. 
> 
> Beyond the bizarre and inexplicable familiarity that he feels toward the brat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now.

“I keep meaning to ask you what he is.”

The brat holds Leon up for closer inspection looking completely enchanted with his partner. Reborn can’t help but quirk an eyebrow at the chameleon.

There is still a concerning wheeze in Inari’s breathing and Reborn immediately shoves down the impulse to ‘heal’ him. This is getting ridiculous.

He focuses on Leon who looks inordinately pleased with himself. His partner has been acting out much more frequently since coming to Namimori. Reborn isn’t sure if that has any deeper meaning, but he’s glad that Leon seems to be enjoying this assignment.

“He’s a chameleon of course,” Reborn answers slyly and watches as the brats expression turns into a displeased glower.

“Chameleons don’t turn into guns,” Inari refutes with narrowing eyes.

Reborn smirks at the petulant tone.

“This one does.”

The outraged little glare intensifies. Though the effect is somewhat diminished by the fact that he appears even smaller when confined to a hospital bed with wires and an IV attached to him.

Reborn just stares back placidly.

Ragazzo likes to think he’s more intimidating than he actually is. It’s a sharp contrast to Dame-Tsuna who tends to shrink at the barest hint of a challenge. Reborn is coming to appreciate the sass. It’s not often someone is brave enough to even dream of bantering with him.

“Can I get a hint?” Inari finally breaks down and asks.

Reborn regards him for a brief moment.

He could just refuse to answer. Shut down the line of questioning like he would if it was Tsuna or Dino.

The brat flutters his eyelashes expectantly and Reborn has to repress the laugh.

He’ll humour him... perhaps.

“I’ll make you a deal, Ragazzo,” He begins as he reaches over to take back Leon and lets him scurry back on to his favourite spot.

“You tell me about this ‘premonition’ of yours, and I will give you a ‘hint.’”

They both have curiosities that they need to sate. And Reborn has had his suspicions about the boy from the beginning. From the moment that Nono and Iemitsu mentioned him Reborn has had the feeling that something was off.

His phone conversation with Iemitsu weeks ago regarding Dame-Tsuna and the seal had only reinforced the suspicions. There is something that is being concealed here.

Something that should be obvious, but continues to escape him.

Something in the back of his mind that tells him he should know.

Beyond the bizarre and inexplicable familiarity that he feels toward the brat.

Foresight is a skill that only the most powerful Skies poses. And intuition is something that the bosses of Vongola has historically been famed for.

All of Timoteo’s sons had been Skies of varying skill and power. And while the primary aspect of the flame type is harmony it can too easily fall into dissonance. Particularly when competing with another.

The Sawada brothers are nothing like Enrico and his brothers. But if Inari is, in fact, a Sky. Reborn would have preferred to have been informed of that from the beginning. That there has been this level of secrecy at all is very concerning, should his suspicions be proven true.

“What premonition?”

“Dame-Tsuna said that’s how you knew Yamamoto was planning on jumping that day. He said you ‘premonitioned’ it.”

There is a concerning range of emotions that pass across Inari’s face.

“What about it?” He asks defensively.

Reborn keeps his expression carefully neutral. It wouldn’t do him any good to spook him now. Obviously the brat realizes that this ability has implications. He hasn’t had a chance to explain what Dying Will Flames are to either of the brothers yet. Whether or not he realizes that it puts him in the position to be played against his brother is another question entirely.

Reborn will not let what happened with Enrico and his brothers happen again. Not while he has the power to intervene.

“You asked before why it was that Tsunayoshi was chosen to inherit the Vongola.”

That definitely got the brats attention.

“Yeah?”

“It is in part because he is the firstborn child of Sawada Iemitsu,” Unless that idiot has other bastard children running around, Reborn wouldn’t put it past him, “and thus the next blood-related heir to Vongola. But more importantly, it is because he checked of certain ‘ability’ requirements need by the head of the Vongola Familiga.”

“You mean the fire stuff?”

Reborn stares.

He’s caught somewhere between impressed and exasperated, which is becoming the trend when dealing with Inari.

The intuition is one thing, the leaps in logic that this brat is able to make is something else entirely.

“... This would have been so much easier if you had been a gullible dunce like your brother.”

“Oi! Rude!”

Reborn rolls his eyes at the indignant tone. He has more pressing concerns at the moment and a limited amount of time before Dame-Tsuna returns.

“Yes. Brat. The ‘fire stuff’ as you so eloquently put it,” He snaps, “Now tell me how often you have these ‘premonitions.’”

If he’s able to make logical leaps to distinguish Dying Will he should be able to follow along with Reborn’s line of questioning easily enough.

“What do you mean by premonitions?”

“Kid,” He growls.

“Hey, I am legitimately asking here. Do you mean full-on technicolor the hills are alive the sound of music, sirens blaring in my ears or like deja-vu or general bad feelings.”

Reborn narrows his eyes and he watches Inari fidget under the scrutiny. He’s obviously stalling. Reborn has been on the receiving end of this sort of technique too many times now not to notice it.

Gabriella is very fond of digression and double talk when a conversation is leading to a topic she would rather not discuss. A habit that she has had for longer than he has known her And he has put up with her brand of stalling for nearly twenty years now.

And she has only gotten more obstinate since she was ten years old and hurtling apples at him from the windows of a decrepit building.

At least when she does it it usually has some sort of purpose. Reborn is fairly certain that this brat is drawing this out just to deliberately irritate him.

“All. Of. It.”

Because there is no way that Nono and Iemitsu would have missed-

“Oh….Often then?”

Reborn smacks himself in the face before he can police himself, and settles into pinching the bridge of his nose.

That idiot.

That absolute useless idiot.

Oh, no, there is absolutely nothing to note about the twin. Nothing at all.

He doesn’t have sky flames.

He has no flames at all.

Deficient.

Reborn was going to make sure that idiot was deficient by time this was wall said and done.

“You okay?” Inari asks with obvious concern.

Reborn just glares at him.

This brat is a walking, talking headache, and Reborn is becoming tragically fond of him.

“Fine. I am going to have to have words with that idiot Iemitsu in the very near future about the importance of not withholding pertinent information from me.”

Inari makes a face.

A very telling face.

“Dude, why would you ask that looser anything about us? He hasn’t been home in like eight years. I’m pretty sure that Tsuna legitimately thinks he’s dead.”

...

Yes, that seems more likely.

It also explains why there isn’t a single picture of the idiot in his own home. He abandoned his wife and children and has apparently been fabricating stories about them.

Reborn doesn’t particularly care if Iemitsu wants to delude himself. But if he thinks he can get away with dragging Reborn into his bullshit and try to pass it off as actual intel he has another thing coming.

... It’s partly his own fault. He had noticed from the beginning that there was something... off about the way Iemitsu referee to his sons.

He had realized during that phone call that there were things that the leader of CEDEF was keeping from him.

Reborn narrows his eyes.

It is entirely possible that it wasn’t HIM that the idiot was trying to deceive.

“For what it’s worth I don’t think this is anything to worry about. I mean, I can’t do any of the crazy orange fire stuff that Tsuna can so I don’t think that anyone can worry about me trying to step on his toes and trying to usurp his claim to the mafia throne.”

It was Timoteo.

Timoteo who had four sons. All Skies, and had been so indecisive of who he wanted to declare his heir that he had spurred a civil war within his own household.

A conflict that Reborn has had his suspicions of since Enrico.

“Any attempt at that would require you to kill him,” he tells the boy honestly.

“Excuse me?”

“Tsunayoshi is the heir designated by Vongola Nono. It has been wrote with his will. Any attempt to usurp him would require his death.”

“Never.”

The RESOLUTION in that word has Reborn’s hair standing on end.

“I would rather die first.”

And such an intense sensation of familiarity that for the briefest moment his vision blacks out as his conscious mind hits on the construct and the world spins in a sickening way.

Reborn has enough practice not to telegraph.

He forcibly changes the tradjectory of his thoughts. Forcing himself to remember the way Enrico had looked broken and bloody on the ground.

Riddled with bullet holes.

And the way Massimo had smiled when he had been told the news.

“It’s a shame that not all brothers share your sense of loyalty.”

Dame-Tsuna returns and the mood in the room immediately brightens.

* * *

* * *

He returns to the hospital long after visiting hours have ended. Though he had put on a smile for the sake of his brother Reborn could tell that by the end of their visit Inari had been struggling.

Now the brat is struggling to breathe.

Reborn narrows his eyes at the beeping machine set up next to the bed as it infuses the next dosage of antibiotics. The brat has been in the hospital for the better part of a week now and his breathing is still rattling unpleasantly. It’s concerning enough that the doctor has even switched the strength and dosage of the drugs several times now.

He isn’t really interested in digging through Inari’s medical files, however he will admit to some level of curiosity. Particularly when he heard the words ‘natural resistance to drugs’ brought up between the attending physician and the paediatrician that was called up to consult.

One more curiosity to add to the growing pile.

Reborn sighs and glances out the window into the darkness. The heavy cloud cover and the moon that peaks through.

He doesn’t know why he came back.

Perhaps a futile effort to stop himself from calling Iemitsu and yelling at the idiot until he shows his hand. Despite the brats insistence that his father knows nothing of him or Dame-Tsuna’s wellbeing Reborn has serious doubts.

A series of violent coughs echo though the room and Reborn couldn’t lie to himself about the stab of concern that he feels even if he wanted to.

He-

* * *

* * *

Y̷̨̞͈̬̖̟̤͓̝͊̑̏̋̿͜ͅọ̶̡͍̰̘̦͉͓̫͚̗͖̟̎̓̐̎́̾̈́̄̈́̿͗̒̚u̸̱̳̤̍̆͛̿̓̓͑̾̌̓̀̏͌̏̕ ̶̨̺̰̗̣͎͎̻̺̎̽́́͆̒͘̕̚͜ŵ̴̠̓͠o̶͕͔̘͔̫͇̮̅̊̃̃̕̚r̶̨̛̺̭̞̝͇̟͖̰̗͚͍̺̯͇̈́̓̎͌̆̂͌̌̽̿̋̚̕̚ķ̶̛̲̰̬̗̫̎́̽̄̆̈́́̆̏̒̌͘͘͜ ̴̨̼̳̻̫̟̦̙͕̼̟̩͊̓̈́̍͗̀̓̀͝͝ţ̴̺͎͎̬̳͍̺͚̜͙̠͙̹̖̄͊̓ǫ̵̹̻̤̫̲̜͌̄͗̎̿̽̚ơ̴̧̪̩̹̣̻̬̞̬̪̯̗̮̮̞̈̈́͗͌̓̈́͋̊̎̍͆̾ ̵̧̛̜̤̖̤̙͎̙̾̾̅̀̋̇̒̏͘̚͘͝ͅḧ̸́̆̊̈̓̃͛́̚̚ͅa̸̝̗͖̖̣̎̇̑͛̈́͠r̵̗͛̈̉̀̏̅̐͂d̴͍̊͐̇̌̽͋͘̚͝,̴̛̝̹̩̩̥̰̤͍̜̖͐͐̐͘͜ͅ ̴̧̦̫̼͈͚̬͇͇̻̀̀͝M̵̨̡̳͖͍̞̞̯͔͉̳̖̀͐͊͌̐̎͑̔i̵̤̯̜̫͙͖̇͑̉̓̃͂̾̓̈́̀͗̈́̓̽̕ŏ̴̬͈͈̗ ̵̨̨̲̟̭̳̮͔̤̞̣͕͍̩̠̊̊̓̈́̆̓̽C̵̛̫̳̻̬͊̓̂́̀̀̔̓͝͠ą̵̧̢̛̟̺̬͛͑̾͗̈́̃̋̇̔̚͝ͅr̶͎̠͍̮͓̱̞͍̗̯̊̍͌͜ͅǫ̵̨͚̦̥̳̘̦̠̲̟̈́͆̓̕͜͠.̵̛̻̟̰̥̥͂͛͒̎́̾̎͘

Y̶̤̪̪͉̾̑̓̐͂̐̓͑̓̆̀̀o̷̡̜̜̫̦̱̣̥̥̱̭̼̊͐̄̂̑͝ͅṷ̷̢̨̤͈̺̯̰̠̻̀̓̐̏̌̔̉̔̚͘̚’̸̛̰̭̩̲͇̘̪̼̞̜̰̝̜͓̺́́̀͑́̄́͌̎̉̅͝͝͝r̵̳̙͓͖̆̍̔̃̑̊̈́̒̈́̇̆̂͛̓ȩ̷͔̑́ ̷̢͎͖̠̩͉̱̦͍̪͚͎͂̉͝ͅo̵̠͖͓̖̘̹͕͔͖̠̯̭̰̮̖͌̈́̿n̷̨̩̫̝̯͈̻͙͖͈̭̍̉̔̔̏́͐̈́̓̀͐͗͒e̷̖̪̤͚͔̯̲̭̙̞̒̎̐̃̿̅̕ ̶̠̳̯͚̙͕̯͖̘̼̻̪͈͓̐̊̀̈͗͗̆́͑̍̃͘͜t̴̯̲͙̪̯̋̄̓̓̿̈̈́͋͠ó̵̧̙̩̝͇͍̳̪̼̻̝̗̆̈̑̕͜ ̷̻̲͇͐̆͠ẗ̶̢͉͇̖͚̜͇̘̖̮̱̔̉́͊͜ͅa̷̰̎͋l̸̨͙̲͖͓̟̖̦̺͍̓͋́̒͘ͅķ̶͍͓̪͎̝̥̠̣̫͓͚̂̃͑̒,̷̧̛̔̾̽͑̔̽̊̀̒͋̎̚͝ ̶̭̰̱͇͓̓̄̈́̏̌̃̽̔͘͜S̵̡̢̠̜͔͔̙̥͔͓̝͕̭͋̈́̄̓̓̿̾̂̽̎̓͘w̸̢̛̙̰̠̱͔̩̮̞̺͔̞̱̿̒̔̇̄̋̅͑ȩ̵͇̑̃̃̾͆͘͝͠ȩ̸̡̦͕̌t̶͉̤̾̂̑̽͑̂̽ḩ̴̢̜̱̮͇͈̹͕̯̬͇̠̋̈́̆̑̀͜ȩ̷̡̛̛̹̳̖̖̼͍̘̼̮̖̼̈́̉̔͑̐͊͝a̸̢̙͊͒̇͌͗̇̏̃̎͜͝r̸̢̯͉̙̙̭̪͔̹̙͙̾̐̃t̴̢͖́̈́̿͋͂̓͝~̴̡̢̨̼̪̪̯̼̇̿́͛͋

* * *

* * *

When Reborn’s vision clears his hand is pressed in the the back of the brats.

His flames-

He-

No!

He can’t he’ll burn!

He pulls his hand back and prepares for the screaming.

He’s **BURNT** him.

He’s **KILLED** him.

His hands are shaking and he gets ready to yell of help but-

The BRAT sighs happily and snuggles down in the hospital bed his breathing evening out. Relaxing.

Fine.

Reborn draws in a painful shuttering breath.

**HE’S FINE**.

Impossible.

He can’t-

It doesn’t-

Reborn has tried before. He has **TRIED**.

He left it in as a lesson.

He had threatened Shamal on pain of death that if he had so much as touched that he would shoot off his fingers. He would have too.

It was a lesson hard learned.

He had **LEARNED** the consequences of what would happen if he tried to...

“Wuzzit~”

The brat blinks.

Reborn is gone in an instant.

* * *

* * *

_“You’re going to regret this one day.”_

_He regrets it already._

_He does._

_“If I wanted your opinion, Shamal, I would ask for it.”_

_“You’re the boss.”_

_He can’t live like THIS._

* * *

* * *

Two days later Inari is discharged from the hospital after making a miraculous recovery.

Reborn watches him closely.

Watches him closely for any signs of negative effects caused by the accidental infusion. But there’s nothing.

He’s fine.

Remarkably fine.

Considering the last person Reborn had tried to ‘heal’ had died screaming he feels like his caution is justified. Just because the brat hasn’t shown any negative symptoms yet doesn’t mean he won’t-

And yet he feels with absolute certainty that he won’t.

“Are you saying that I attract weirdos?” Dame-Tsuna asks.

The brat considers for a long moment, his eyes going distant and now that Reborn is watching he notices a spark oforange light in the boys eye before it quickly fades and dies.

“Yes,” Inari answers simply making Maman laugh and Dame-Tsuna squawk in dismay.

Reborn narrows his eyes and launches himself off of Tsuna’s shoulder and lands as gently as he can on Inari’s, “Another premonition of yours?”

“Yup,” The little brat chirps cheerfully and provides no other context.

Irritating little whelp.

The brothers continue chatting the rest of the way home with Maman interjecting every once in awhile. It’s a comfortable moment between family and Reborn lets himself sink into the ambient closeness and warmth of this family that he has attached himself to.

And then Dame-Tsuna starts panic shrieking about Kyoko Sasagawa and the literature project that they had assigned.

Reborn rolls his eyes.

Lord save him from hapless teenagers with crushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys~
> 
> We live in interesting and crazy times. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. I got sick 😷 for a while and haven’t really been able to work on anything. I’m still in the process of setting up a work from home thing now too which should be fun. 
> 
> I hope to have the next instalment of Sass and Win up on Monday, but the update schedule might be a little... erratic for a bit. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you guys think of the chapter!
> 
> See you next time ❤️💕🥰


	8. Muscle Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things you don’t forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concurrent with Sass and Win Chapter 6

Reborn can dismantle and assemble each piece of weaponry in his arsenal. He can do it blindfolded, upside down, and with one hand tied behind his back. He can do it with hands that are frost bitten, slick with blood, and on one particularly memorable occasion with railroad spikes driven through his wrists.

He can even do it as he suffocates in his own blood as his lungs continuously disintegrate and regenerate in the most painful way possible. A hypothetical situation of course.

It’s a skill that he has honed over years of hard work and constant practice.

Muscle memory.

The skills that the body wont forget even if the mind doesn’t want to cooperate. Though he did have to retrain himself ... after.

Regardless, It’s a phenomena that he understands. That’s explainable. He could create a mathematical model for himself based on the principals.

But he wont. Something like that might start to give Virgil ideas and Reborn has long since learned his lessons about helping that madman hypothesis test. Hopefully, the lackey has also learned by now. But Reborn isn’t going to hold his breath.

“Who’s this little cutie?” The girl, Kyoko Sasagawa, coos at him and Reborn’s stomach twists in a painful nauseating way.

He keeps the placid smile pasted on to his face regardless as he suddenly finds himself being forced to shake hands with the girl Dame-Tsuna is so smitten with. He does his best to force down the sickening feeling of humiliation that this interaction is dredging up.

“Ciaossu, I’m Reborn,” He greets as pleasantly as he is able as she wiggles her fingers in front of his face.

2 + 4 + 8 + 16 + 32 + 64 +

He breathes.

Humiliating.

The way his greeting lisps unpleasantly out of his mouth. The way he is suddenly hyper aware of how wrong his body feels.

128 + 256 +

“Is he your little brother?” She asks the boys and Reborn is all at once absurdly irritated and grateful for the diverted attention.

How very pathetic and petty he’s becoming.

“I’m their tutor,” he says in some vain attempt to... what? Defend his pride as a man?

Laughable.

“That’s so sweet. You’re playing pretend together.”

He keeps up the smile, but he is fairly certain that it would appear strained to a keen eye. Thankfully, Dame-Tsuna is about as observant as a cantaloupe. And unless Inari has some truly remarkable peripheral vision he wont be able to see his face.

“I’m also a hitman,” He delivers flatly as his revolting stunted fingers clench into the baggy, cheap, flimsy fabric of the brats sweater. Honestly, hadn’t he-

* * *

* * *

“Y̵o̵u̵ ̵s̷h̶o̴u̸l̷d̵ ̸i̴n̶v̷e̷s̵t̸ ̸i̸n̷ ̴s̸o̷m̴e̷t̴h̶i̷n̷g̵ ̷a̶ ̶l̴i̷t̶t̵l̶e̵ ̷m̸o̷r̴e̴ ̷h̸i̶g̷h̷ ̶q̸u̸a̵l̶i̸t̵y̶”

“H̴m̶?̶ ̸y̸o̵u̷ ̵c̸a̵n̴ ̷b̵u̶y̵ ̶m̸e̵ ̶n̷e̶w̴ ̶s̴w̵e̴a̵t̷e̷r̴s̶ ̸i̴f̴ ̵y̶o̴u̶’̵r̸e̷ ̷s̷o̶ ̶i̵n̵s̶u̶l̶t̷e̴d̴.”

“T̸h̴a̷t̷’̵s̷ ̷n̸o̷t̷ ̴q̸u̵i̴t̸e̶ ̶w̸h̷a̵t̶ ̴I̵ ̷m̴e̴a̷n̷t̴.”

“M̵a̶k̷e̴ ̷s̵u̷r̶e̶ ̸t̷o̴ ̶s̴p̸r̴i̵n̸k̵l̵e̸ ̵i̸n̷ ̵s̸o̶m̵e̷ ̴c̶o̵l̶o̶u̵r̸ ̸t̵o̴o̵.”

“Y̶o̴u̵’̷r̷e̵ ̴s̴u̵c̷h̷ ̸a̷ ̷b̴o̴s̶s̷y̷ ̸l̵i̶t̶t̶l̵e̵ ̵t̶h̵i̶n̴g̴.”

“Y̸o̴u̶’̸r̶e̵ ̷j̵u̷s̶t̶ ̶r̶e̷a̸l̷i̸z̴i̵n̷g̶ ̴t̸h̵i̷s̸ ̴n̷o̸w̷,̴ ̵S̵u̷n̵s̵h̷i̷n̷e̶?”

* * *

* * *

Reborn’s vision spins in a deeply concerning way and he is all at once very thankful for the terrible sweater. He’s fairly certain the brat would have noticed him clinging if it was actually fitted in any way.

The girl just giggles.

No effect from his words.

No comprehension.

And now he has the added ‘joy’ of listening to Dame-Tsuna further reduce him to ‘our stupid baby cousin from Italy.’

Reborn is going to make him pay for this later. Once he manages to get his head neatly sorted back behind the block.

It is definitely time to call Shamal now. Something is obviously wrong with the construct if it’s suddenly failing him this badly. If it will effect his work negatively no matter what he might as well get it fixed.

He can also use this opportunity to smack the idiot loosing track of his apprentice to the point where the boy had been tricked into trying to assassinate Vongola’s heir apparent.

“He really is our tutor though,” The brat says suddenly and Reborn is caught off guard by the affirmation. By how stabilizing the the simple assurance is in that voice.

By the brief and scattered pulse of harmony that remains faint and fleeting. It brushes past the periphery of his awareness before vanishing.

Thankfully, Dame-Tsuna and the girl are too wrapped up in their own conversation to pay him any mind. Reborn takes a moment to get himself lost in the sea of Dirac as the teenagers set up their study space in the living room. He forces himself to relinquish his vice like grip on the brats sweater and hops down on the love seat where he has a decent view of this study session.

This really is getting ridiculous.

Reborn listens absently as the teenagers continue to chatter away. Leon lowers himself slowly from the brim of his fedora and settles on his knee next to his rhythmically tapping fingers. Wide yellow eyes blink up at him with something resembling concern and Reborn halts the incessant tapping and runs his hand gently down his partners back.

He’s fine.

Or he will be.

Sighing, Reborn pulls out his cellphone and begins going through his contacts...’

198113112

Shamal should be in Seoul right now if Gabriella is to be believed. And he does generally trust her information. Meaning that his ‘doctor’ shouldn’t have any trouble making his way to Namimori within the next twenty-four hours.

And if he doesn’t Reborn will make sure he gets a chaos shot right in his ass.

“Oh no, I don’t think we kept those,” Inari’s deeply insincere tone cuts through his thoughts and and draws his attention back to the present moment.

“Yeah, I think mom threw those away ages ago,” Dame-Tsuna adds sounding infinitely more insincere than his brother.

Terrible liars.

“Really,” He finds himself asking because he’s in need of a distraction and he’s curious to see what it is that has both twins looking shifty.

“What have I thrown out?” Maman asks, reappearing from the kitchen with a full platter of snacks, coffees (one that she generously sets down on a coaster next to him) teas, and sweets which she sets on the table next to them.

“I never throw away anything my boys make.”

“It was just a homework assignment from years ago, nothing important.”

“The were ‘my plans for the future,’ from back in elementary school,” the girl explains helpfully. And the look of mortification on Dame-Tsuna’s face makes Reborn forgive her for the earlier unknowing insult.

“Oh! I have those!” Maman announces and rushes off to retrieve whatever damning thing the twins had written as children.

As she goes off the teenagers start to chat again. Bringing with Kyoko’s childhood dream of becoming a police officer. To her current, more interesting, goal of becoming a secret agent. Reborn can’t help but stare at her curiously. It’s such a juxtaposition to her outward appearance.

But Reborn knows not to judge a book by it’s cover.

I̶t̷ ̶a̶l̵w̷a̷y̸s̸ ̷i̷r̷r̷i̶t̵a̴t̶e̶d̵ ̵H̸I̴M̴

Maman returns shortly with the papers in hand and Reborn settles in to listen to whatever mortifying things they had desperately tried to conceal. Chances are it isn’t nearly as terrible as either one of them fears.

Perhaps a little embarrassing, but he doubts that anything a seven year old wrote could be all that terrible.

“Tsuna, you go first,” The brat says suddenly with a flush of red colouring his face.

“What? Why!?”

For a moment, Inari looks so uncharacteristically uncomfortable. His usual bravado diminishing ever so slightly as he fiddles with the paper in in his hands. And-

“Dame-Tsuna, cowardice is not an attractive trait for a mafia boss to show in front of a lady,” He taunts his student.

He half expects the boy to starts flailing about shrieking denials. But it seems like having his ‘crush’ present has given him an extra dose of confidence. He steels himself as much as Dame-Tsuna can and begins to speak.

“My name is Tsuna. Everyone says I’m Dame-Tsuna. But when I grow up I’m going to become a giant robot. I wont be worthless Tsuna anymore and then I will have friends.”

... Reborn doesn’t know if it’s disheartening that the boy was calling himself worthless at the age of seven, or encouraging that despite the heavy weight of the seal he was still able to imagine something as ...unique as growing up to become a robot of all things.

He hopes that one day Tsunayoshi will eventually snap and tell him to stop calling him Dame-Tsuna. It must grate on his nerves. And Reborn knows the boy has a spine under there somewhere.

“Inari-kun?” Kyoko prompts and Reborn lets his attention naturally shift to the brat.

The brat, who, stares back at them al flatly before clearing his throat and-

“When I grow up I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who tries to mess with my brother. And I’m going to marry a billionaire and I’ll have a bunch of nice cars and drink martini’s everyday. I’m going to be more badass than all you other fuckers and you can just suck it!”

Reborn stares.

They all stare a the brat who is now glowing with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Reborn’s eyes narrow as he watches the three of them get back to work. His attention fixed on Inari. He feels his mouth press into a tight line.

Those were not the words of a seven year old.

Inari had said he has frequent premonitions. How often did he have them? How long has he been having them? Reborn might be reading into this too deeply but something about that short paragraph is sitting strangely. A twist at his attention. Something that refuses to be ignored-

* * *

* * *

“W̶e̵l̸c̷o̴m̸e̶ ̶h̴o̷m̵e̸,̴ ̷S̷u̵n̷s̵h̸i̴n̶e̸~̵”

G̷o̸l̶d̷ ̶e̶y̴e̷s̴ ̸p̵e̶e̵k̷ ̶s̵l̷y̴l̸y̵ ̴o̸v̷e̵r̴ ̴t̸h̴e̵ ̵b̴a̴c̴k̵ ̸o̶f̸ ̸t̴h̴e̸ ̵c̸o̴u̶c̸h̴.̷ ̴A̵ ̶w̴i̶n̶e̷ ̸g̶l̶a̷s̵s̸ ̶i̴s̵ ̵b̶a̸l̵a̵n̷c̵e̷d̶ ̵d̶e̵l̷i̷c̴a̶t̶e̷l̶y̵ ̷b̶e̷t̵w̷e̵e̵n̶ ̸t̸w̵o̸ ̶f̷i̷n̴g̶e̷r̵s̷.̷

“A̸n̴d̶ ̴w̸h̸a̷t̶ ̴a̶r̷e̵ ̴y̷o̷u̵ ̶u̴p̵ ̷t̶o̷,̷ ̷M̷i̷o̷ ̷C̴a̸r̷o̷?̵”

“L̷a̸z̵i̶n̸g̵,̴ ̸d̸a̴y̷d̶r̸e̴a̵m̷i̴n̷g̴,̸ ̵e̷n̶g̵a̸g̴i̸n̷g̶ ̷i̶n̵ ̷a̵ ̴l̷i̶t̸t̸l̴e̵ ̵h̵a̷r̵m̸l̵e̵s̵s̵ ̸d̷a̷y̴ ̴d̷r̴i̷n̷k̷i̸n̴g̸ ̵w̸h̶i̶l̸e̷ ̵I̷ ̸e̴a̵g̶e̶r̷l̶y̷ ̵a̷w̵a̷i̶t̴ ̴m̶y̵ ̶l̴o̸v̴e̸l̵y̸ ̴h̴u̸s̸b̸a̶n̸d̷.̶”

* * *

* * *

The world spins and Reborn is tempted to order Shamal to get here within the hour. Hurry the fuck up before the dysphoria fueled vertigo kills him.

Flashes and voices of things that should be gone. Need to be gone.

It takes Leon nipping at his fingers to get him into motion.

He takes out his GLOCK as his partner materializes the mainlanders kit next to him and he sets to work dismantling the gun. Piece by piece.

* * *

* * *

Reborn would like to say that everything following his (possibly ill conceived) suggestion that they play Russian Roulette went exactly according to plan. It would be a lie of course, but the resulting chaos was so glorious that he will take credit for it anyway.

He hadn’t been entirely certain a what would happen to Kyoko Sasagawa when she pulled the trigger. She wouldn’t die. Reborn would never allow such harm to come to an innocent civilian. Truth be told she wasn’t the one he was curious about anyway. However, she is the first to pull the trigger.

He in no way anticipated a rage fueled vendetta against the local criminal element. Nor did he expect that Kyoko would have such powerful sun flames. Her innate control of them is impressive and Reborn would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t experience a brief moment of panic when she takes his gun and charges the chamber with a technique that he himself has made use of in the past.

A moment later she’s bursting through the window wreathed in flames. A moment after that a Deathperation bulletin sends Dame-Tsuna charging after her.

“I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to mom,” Inari complains as he looks out through the now gaping holes in the living room window.

Reborn hops up onto the brats shoulder.

“Sweat the small stuff later, Ragazzo,” He says, “After them.”

The brat starts moving obediently. A concerning wheeze rattles in his chest and Reborn reflexively presses his hand against the back of Inari’s neck. His flames gathering in his palm.

The action feels natural.

Feels practiced.

Like muscle memory.

Even though he knows that it can’t be.

Reborn pushes down the uncertainty. It has no place here. It’s unhelpful and distracting. He can analyze this all later once he has the opportunity.

He clamps down on his output as tightly as possible and lets the sun flames flow, clearing the fatigue and damage that illness had impacted on the lungs. Activating muscles for an extra boost of power and stamina.

If he focuses closely he can just barely feel the sparks of lightning directed inward and...

And a bubbling, cloying harmony. Faint, but dancing past the edge of his awareness in a teasing greeting. A startling suggestion.

This ridiculous brat.

Who exactly does he think he’s trying to tempt into harmonization?

“Thanks.”

Reborn doesn’t respond. He’s too focused on monitoring his output now. Trying to adjust to a level that feels more controlled and less likely to burn. It’s a singular experience. He’s never had to opportunity to adjust his output this way before.

“I’m going to need to jack a bike or something,” Inari pants after running twenty city blocks.

“Hm.”

“So, you know, keep your eyes out for a fucking bike or whatever.”

Foul mouthed little shit.

Reborn tugs at the hair at the back of Inari’s neck to express his displeasure. Not too hard, but hard enough to get his point across.

“Watch your mouth, Ragazzo.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

They get another four blocks before Reborn spots a way of expediting this chase. Along with an overt unity to more closely observe on of Namimori’s persons of interest.

“On your left.”

Inari turns obediently and Reborn feels the brat’s body fill with tension once he comes face to face with Hibari Kyoya. His declared nemesis.

“Sawada,” The boy greets, and Reborn can’t help but marvel at the resemblance that Hibari has to his uncle, “And the baby.”

Not quite as personable as Fon though.

* * *

* * *

Once everything is said and done Reborn finds himself staring at Inari from his ceiling perch. The living headache. The impossible, improbable brat.

The brat that Nono had been so emphatic was Flame deficient.

The same brat who was throwing around one of the most powerful tools that a Sky could harness without thought or care.

A suggestion.

It was something that even SHE, had difficulty harnessing.

An imposition of WILL.

And it’s all the confirmation that he truly needs now.

A duel natured Sky.

After Dame-Tsuna falls asleep and is muttering into his pillow Reborn descends from his hammock and smacks the careless brat upside the head.

“OW!”

“Brat, next time you feel the urge to inspire someone do me a favour and don’t use your WILL to do so unless you’re absolutely sure you can deal with the consequences.”

Because if this gets out the consequences could very easily mean his death.

“What?”

And Reborn will not let that happen.

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’re all doing well out there in the crazy world ❤️  
> 
> 
> And thus things start kicking off in a dramatic way. It was fun to revisit chapter six. It’s still one of my favourites and even when I was writing originally it I was already starting to think of things for a Reborn POV. 
> 
> Poor Reborn. He was going through a lot in those early days and it’s just about to get worse. 
> 
>   
> Let me know what you think!  
> 
> 
> See you next time~
> 
> ❤️💕❤️


	9. Derailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell is wrong with this city?” Shamal demands, “If you’re dragging me into a war zone of some sort I think I deserve to know about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concurrent with Chapter 7 of Sass and Win

“What the hell is wrong with this city?” Shamal demands, “If you’re dragging me into a war zone of some sort I think I deserve to know about it.”

Reborn pulls his phone away from his head and give it a weary look before casting his eye around the darkened bedroom. The boys are still fast asleep and the clock on the wall insists that it is quarter past four.

Which means that he had managed to sleep for a grand total of one hour.

“What exactly is the problem, Shamal,” Reborn asks, keeping his voice low as he slips out of the bedroom.

“The problem is-” Shamal hisses emphatically, “-is that I have been in this airport for three hours now and I can’t convince a single cab driver to take me to ‘Namimori’ for all the money in the world.”

“Ah.”

Reborn vaguely recalls something similar upon his arrival in Japan. He hadn’t only had to contend with the curse constantly undermining his attempts to communicate with civilians. But even those that he had been able to hold a passably normal conversation with had exhibited exceptionally strange behaviours as soon as he had mentioned the name Namimori.

Thankfully, the individual who drives the only bus in an out of Namimori had know to watch for him and that had solved the issue. While Reborn doesn’t generally take public transit he had made an exception this once. If only for the lack of all other options.

“Then rent a car,” Reborn says irritably.

He misses being able to drive himself in his own cars. It’s a somewhat maddening realization, because even yesterday he hadn’t recalled ever driving himself anywhere. The memories of his garage, of his cars, of his bloody terrarium and collection of records abruptly flood through the block and Reborn spends what feels like an eternity trying to force everything down again.

He feels raw and robbed.

“I tried,” Shamal says, “And as soon as I told the woman where I was headed she started prophesying my doom, ripped the keys out of my hands and nearly beheaded me with the security gate.”

“Then take the bus,” He informs Shamal with more venom than is called for.

What had happened to his life? Had it gotten boxed up and put into storage? Was Gabriella managing-

He doesn’t remember-

* * *

* * *

_Fon’s face is awash with horror as he takes Reborn’s face in his impossibly small calloused hands._

_“Renato, what have you done to yourself?”_

_Reborn pulls away and arches a haughty brow at him, “Who are you talking to? My name is Reborn.”_

* * *

* * *

_Lal’s body, shrunken and disfigured as she writhes around on the ground in agony. As the corruption chained around her neck demands more and more and more from her._

_She alternates between begging, “Don’t tell him, please don’t tell him. He thought he was helping.”_

_And when the pain gets to be too much that she’s flushed, sweating, shaking and she’s almost frothing at the mouth she starts begging for ‘Control.’_

_“Where did we go?” She sobs, “Ren, where did we go!?”_

_Reborn can’t do anything but sit next to her and let her break his hand again and again and again until Shamal arrives with a grim faced Iemitsu-_

* * *

* * *

He’s the world’s greatest hitman, Reborn.

The strongest of the seven.

He’s -

* * *

* * *

“ _It unfair for you to use your pretty face against me, Sunshine, I’m a weak man. It’s cheating, you know~”_

_“Hm, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mio Caro.”_

_“You do. You so do, This is blatant manipulation-“_

_“Are you actually complaining, Brat?_ ”

* * *

* * *

Reborn’s head throbs as flashes of indigo burst behind his eyelids. Disappearing all the things that he doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to remember.

“I know there’s a bus!” Shamal snaps sounding somewhat hysterical, “How could I not with the crypt keeper stalking me!”

“Then get on the bus,” Reborn snaps as he pinches the bridge of his nose. It is actually starting to feel like he’s getting a migraine. Which is rare considering the propensity of his flames, but not impossible, and more likely considering how very little he has slept this past week.

“I’m not riding in a bus with a zombie!”

Reborn stops and stares blankly out the window into the pre-dawn. He might have list focus for a moment, but he is fairly certain that the undead hadn’t been featuring heavily in this pointless conversation about public transit.

“Shamal, I swear to god I am not paying off drug dealers for you again.”

“I make drugs. I don’t do them!” Shamal protests immediately, “I’m telling you that this guy is dead, and that there’s something seriously off about this Namimori place. It’s not even on any of the tourism maps.”

Reborn pays this idiot entirely too much to get this much back talk. He’s obviously been too nice lately if all his subordinates are giving it him flack.

“Get on the bus and maybe you won’t wake up with a bed full of giant centipedes.”

“You’re really not selling me on this you know.”

“You have until eight.”

“Or what?” Shamal asks with a hint of wariness.

“You’ll see.”

Reborn ends the call before Shamal can say something else to make this migraine worse. He should probably at least try to get back to sleep. Having the block reset is always an unpleasant experience, but having it done under any kind of mental duress tends to make him ... hallucinate.

If hallucinate is the correct word for it.

He jumps down from the windowsill, fully intending to go back to the bedroom and sleep. Dame-Tsuna should enjoy having the chance to sleep in, especially with yesterday’s excitement. Inari is another matter entirely, the boy is somehow both a night owl and an early bird, but he usually tends to keep the volume down.

_BRIIINGGG_ -

Reborn sighs, counts, and briefly considers the merits of killing Shamal. He quickly decides against it. Who knows what sort of terrible pathogen he would release upon the world in the event of his untimely death. And besides that Reborn will begrudgingly admit, in the privacy of his own mind, to being at least a little fond of the idiot.

He answers the call with a touch of resignation, expecting to hear the continuation of Trident Shamal’s lament against the public transit system.

“REBORN, MY LOVE!”

Instead, he is greeted by the dulcet tones of the Poison Scorpion.

Casting one last mournful glance back at the bedroom door Reborn turns on his heel and begins descending the steps to the main floor.

“How can I help you, Bianchi,” He asks heavily as he abandons all hope of getting anything remotely like a good nights sleep tonight.

* * *

* * *

Conversing with Bianchi is always something of an exercise in patience. She jumps between delusional and professional so rapidly that even he, occasionally, has a difficult time keeping up.

She has never been the most stable of his business associates, but they have, historically been able to work well together... at least when she wasn’t flying off the handle at the smallest slight and hurling her poison cooking at innocents. She had been young when they had first been introduced, not that she isn’t still young now, and he used to have more tolerance for her erratic behaviour.

That is until she had decided that she was madly in love with him.

I might have been flattering had the sheer level of obsession not been so unsettling. Bianchi know very little of him as a person. Knows nothing of his interests, hobbies (outside of his professional work), no aspect of his personal life or history whatsoever.

She cannot comprehend past the veil of the curse. She sees precisely what the majority of population sees. An incredibly intelligent and skilled infant. Which makes her ‘crush’ for lack of a better word all the more disturbing.

Particularly since she seemed to find something about this revolting little body he’s in arousing in some way. There is something much to problematic about that. He’s done his best to avoid her since this obsession started. Unfortunately, the mafia, for all that is spans the globe, is a rather small social circle especially when it comes to assassins.

Reborn has encountered her twice in the past two years. The last time he had nearly shot her in the face because she blatantly refused to adhere to his very reasonable request that she keep her hands to herself.

And now she is, apparently, in the area for reasons that she hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about.

Joy of joys.

* * *

* * *

“You’re not looking so good, Dude,” Inari observes immediately upon entering the kitchen.

Reborn gives him a wry look from his perch on the kitchen counter. The sharp edges of his aggravation smoothing over.

“Rude, Ragazzo,” he says, “you need to watch your mouth. One day you’re going to insult the wrong person and then what will you do?”

The obnoxious little brat just gives him a lopsided smile as he saunters you next to him opening cabinets to retrieve two mugs and the Moka Pot that had appeared at some point last week. He’s fairly certain that Inari went off and bought it specifically because Reborn had mentioned offhandedly that he regretted not bringing one to Japan.

Reborn is hardly going to complain. He appreciates well brewed espresso. He appreciates the ritual of it. He appreciates that this impossible boy has gone and taught himself this particular brewing technique seemingly for no other reason that Reborn had mentioned that he enjoyed it. 

The kettle is filled with water. The fire on the stovetop comes to life after a series of clicks and Reborn finds himself relaxing as he observes the well practiced motions.

“I have insulted plenty of the ‘wrong people,’ Man,” Inari replies as he opens the porcelain jar filled with the coffee beans they had purchased from that extravagant little cafe. “Mostly I find that they deserve to be taken down a peg and if they take issue with it they can try to take me down.”

Reborn arches an eyebrow, “shall I take that you think I deserve to be insulted?” He asks dangerously.

“Naw, you’re gold, dude. When I say you don’t look too good I say it out of love.”

Anyone else. Any one else and Reborn would have fires a warning shot on principal. He didn’t get where he is by letting uppity brats mouth off at him. But Reborn feels equal parts insulted, bewildered, and fond of this particular brat.

“I mean,” Inari continues as he pours the boiled water into the bottom chamber of the Moka Pot with practiced ease, “I think it would be pretty rude to notice that someone wasn’t feeling well and then just continue on like nothings wrong at all.”

He gently taps the fresh grounds into the basket and carefully screws on the spout before setting the entire pot on the stove top at a low heat. And then he turns and meets Reborn’s eyes with another crooked grin which comes with the added punch of sparking sky flames.

Now that he know’s what he’s looking for it’s easy to pick them out hiding behind the current of lightning like wisps. 

He doubts the brat even realizes what he’s doing which makes it all the more infuriating how well its working. But just this once he isn’t going to fight it.

Reborn hums and waits patiently for Inari to finish brewing the espresso and watches with a keen eye as he stirs up some cremina for the added sweetness. He’s impressed, he’s comfortable, and if he’s going to be entirely honest with himself he’s a little more stable to face what is to come later today. He still isn’t particularly looking forward to his appointment with Shamal, but he feels much less like the inside of his head is cracking.

The espresso is poured into the mugs. The cremina is added. And Inari carefully pushes one of the mugs to Reborn with a bright and eager look on his face and waits.

The mug is bright yellow with a cat chasing a yarn ball painted on the side. He keeps his expression as neutral as possible. The last thing he wants is for Inari to realize that he actually appreciates the eccentrically decorated mugs that he foists upon him daily.

He takes a sip to mask the smile that is threatening to pull across his face.

“Well?” The brat prompts, “How’d I do?”

It’s rich, smooth, and just the right amount of sweet.

And it reminds Reborn strangely of a home he is fairly certain he has never been to.

“Passable for your first attempt,” He says as he hops down from the countertop.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” The brat beams and moves to follow after him. “Probably time to wake up Tsuna now. And Hinata Shoichi’s morning show is just about to start~ Are you going to come watch with us?”

“I’ve never known a teenager so interested in local new,” Reborn replies archly, easily setting the pace up the steps.

Inari flushes immediately.

“Oh, uh, you know, it’s always good to keep an eye on what’s going on around town,” He clears his throat looking vaguely uncomfortable before continuing, “It also helps that the host is pretty as fuck~”

Reborn pauses momentarily to consider that. While he personally finds something about the morning news anchor somewhat off putting he does have to admit that the man is very attractive.

“I will grant you that,” he admits with a breath of amusement and makes a quick note of the relieved sound the brat makes. If he was anticipating some sort of judgement he would be sorely disappointed.

Inari laughs brightly and Reborn is almost bowled over by the sheer intensity of harmony being projected at him.

“But it’s also good to know what the weather is going to be like, what streets may or may not exist today, an if the city council is planning on any human sacrifices this week.”

* * *

* * *

Dame-Tsuna spends the entirety of the morning news report flailing about and fretting about Kyoko Sasagawa. Considering what Reborn observed of her talents yesterday he is fairly certain that Tsuna has nothing to worry about. The young lady can more than take care of herself, and then some.

Hayato and Takeshi arrive shortly and the four of them head off to school. Reborn doesn’t accompany them and does his best to ignore the look of concern and suspicion that Inari directs at him.

He isn’t a babysitter. It’s hardly his job to accompany them every moment of every day. Dame-Tsuna needs to be able to stand up on his own two feet and not have to rely on a Deathperation bullet to save him when things get difficult...

And besides that Shamal will be arriving shortly, and the sooner he gets the block fixed the better.

Reborn watches the group head out to school through the window and does his best to quash the impulse to follow after them. Maman announces that she’s going down to the basement to do laundry which he courteously acknowledges.

He’s being ridiculous. He knows that he’s being ridiculous. He’s being even more ridiculous than Dame-Tsuna. It’s been an extended moment of weakness that he is tempted to blame entirely on the degradation of the construct in his mind.

There is no way that the barely existent sky flames that sparkle and dance around the brat will bother him once Shamal arrives and sets everything back into place...

...

Leon’s tongue extends and sticks to the side of his face in an act of disapproval. As if his partner can somehow hear his feeble attempts to rationalize.

Harmonization is not so easily broken.

He learned that the hard way.

BRIIINGGG-

“Shamal?” He answers immediately with out checking expecting to hear a torrent of complaints from the man on the other end of the line.

“Boss, listen close I don’t have much time and neither do you.”

Reborn immediately snaps to attention, the stress and alarm in Gabriella’s voice setting the adrenaline pumping. It takes a lot to make his girl worry. It takes even more to get that particular note of panic in her voice.

“Report,” he says firmly.

“There has been a class one treaty violation. Someone has put out a massive hit on Vongola Decimo. The pot is a hundred million. His picture, bio, and coordinates were posted to the Blacklist less than twelve hours ago with a sleeper mark. Vongola is scrabbling to get some back up to Namimori, but there is a clock ticking. Five hours until the contract expires-“

The call ends abruptly, but Reborn hardly notices Leon transforms in his hands and he fires two shots out the open window striking the assassins posted on the rooftop across the street with deadly precision. He hears Shamal before he sees him coming up the street and shouting frantically.

Reborn throws himself out of the window and bounds off the front gate before launching off and kicking a meat cleaver wielding man hard in the side of the head.

He turns to look at Shamal who has his ass planted firmly on the ground as he breaths heavily. It takes him a moment to realize that Reborn is standing next to him and then his expression turns furious and frantic.

“Didn’t I ask if you were dragging me into a war zone?!” He demands shrilly.

Reborn doesn’t have time for this. He has to move. He has to get to the school. He has to-

A high pitched shriek echos out from the Sawada household and Reborn rushes backin, Shamal tailing closely behind him.

He has to get to the boys, but he can hardly go and leave their mother to fend for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assassins assassins everywhere!
> 
> Let me know what you think :) I always love hearing from everyone!


	10. The Danger of Poking Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reborn had done what he had sworn never to do. He had become complacent. He had slipped. He hadn’t been vigilant enough. He had let his own useless issues get in the way and he hadn’t anticipated...
> 
> Any of this really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concurrent with chapter 7 of Sass and Win.

Reborn has born witness to many horrific acts of violence in his life. In fairness, he has been the perpetrator of some horrific acts of violence himself. He prefers to act fast and clean when he takes contracts. Minimal suffering no matter the target. He’s a hitman, not a saint. He has no delusions of being a good or virtuous man. His hands are drenched in so much blood that he really has no right to pass moral judgement on anyone.

However...

But ever so often he will be aimed at a true piece of human filth and he might be tempted to take his time. Some monsters deserve to know true terror. Some monsters deserve know know that there is, in fact, a much more dangerous monster that will come and deliver them to that special ring of hell.

Reborn isn’t naive enough to believe that he sits unchallenged atop the underworlds disgusting food chain. He has always known that one day he would meet a monster much more dangerous than he.

He is always, on some base level, prepared for it. Prepared for the violence, the blood, the carnage. Or he was.

He hasn’t been in Namimori very long, but somehow this strange little town, with it’s charming citizens that are much more flame active than any town he has even passed through, has lulled him into a false sense of security.

Reborn had done what he had sworn never to do. He had become complacent. He had slipped. He hadn’t been vigilant enough. He had let his own useless issues get in the way and he hadn’t anticipated...

Any of this really.

There are pitchy, blood curdling screams emanating from within the Sawada household as Reborn burst through the ajar door with Shamal close at his heels. There is a grim coldness in his chest.

He is expecting some level of carnage.

“Oh dear~” Maman giggles.

He...

“I thought you would have been off to tend to the boys, Reborn-chan,” she continues as red, wet matter splashes against the floor.

He hadn’t been expecting this.

“Oh fuck,” Shamal exclaims, and Reborn can’t bring himself to tell the moron off for swearing in the presence of a lady.

There is no way he can tear his eyes away from the figure standing before him.

“Nana-san-“ He begins, not quite trusting his own voice.

“Now, Reborn-chan, I told you before,” The looming figure of shadow and static smiles down at him with eyes and a crescent like mouth made of blistering white light, “Call me Mama~”

He swallows hard.

The shadows stretch and convalesce in the kitchen making the space feel even smaller than he logically knows that it is.

The walls, and floor, and ceiling, and countertops are all dripping with red. There is a rancid stench that mixes with the sent of iron and he can hear splattering dollops hit the floor beyond Shamal’s keening.

Is that a spine in her hand?

He’s trying to comprehend how this entity that is speaking with Nana Sawada’s voice could possibly be her when it has a face like that?

Reborn is peripherally aware that Shamal, Shamal of all people, has just vomited all over the floor. The bile mixing in unpleasantly with the rest of the mess. Shamal who has created a litany of revolting viral and biological agents that wreck havoc on life.

There is an irony here, but Reborn can’t seem to make that intuitive leap.

* * *

* * *

**Divide by sevens and start again...**

* * *

* * *

7͐͐̍͘͠ 7 . 7͒̆̅͗ 7͋̔͠. 7̛ 7̿͡ 7̋̀͝

7́̊̃ 7̃̓̏̕͡ 7 7̊̇͞͡7̿͝ 7͗͋͂̈7̆̿̇͘͡

7 7̕ 7͗͛̎̄̆ 7͞ 7̑́͑̔ 7̎ 7 7̈ 7̔̃͠

* * *

* * *

Leon abruptly looses form and starts to ooze out of Reborn’s hand. He doesn’t need to hear words to know that his partner is terrified beyond measure. Reborn cradles the hot and viscous form close to his chest.

Something sludgy slides down the wall and splats behind ... her

She sighs, “such a mess. This will certainly be an adventure cleaning up before the boy’s get home.”

Reborn can’t answer. Every instinct that he has is telling him to run, and yet at the same time telling him that if he tries, if he dares to turn his back, he will die immediately.

He can’t bring himself to move.

This level of terror is so unfamiliar to him.

And yet...

“Oh, Reborn-chan,” she dips low and and brushes his face. The action is gentle, but the sensation borders on pain.

And yet he knows with absolute certainty that he has experienced this before.

“You really should have just gone to Tsuna and Inari. Seeing this... it isn’t good for your mind.”

* * *

* * *

“M͌͜y̙̜̫̒̀̏ m̞͓̈́͐̈́͢ó̙͆ͅm͕̻͈͆͐̽?̯̪͛͊̈́ͅ W͇̫̉͠h̡̳͎̏͛̐y̱̓͜͠ d̹̫̰̅͌͌o̹̔ y̳͎̥͂͞͞o̧͔͇̔̾͒ȕ̡̦͓͑̽ ẃ̮͇̋ä̰̰̳͗̅n̥̊t̙̂ tó̮͓̻̃́ k̫̹͔͐̒͘n̺͉̉͑͐ͅȯ̙͓̈w?͕̗̭̄̓̉”̼̿

“Č̪ũ͇̌͟r̗̎i͕̥̐̏̚͜ṑ͇̹̃͟sỉ͍͎̇t̼̙̼́̏̅y̘̭̆͌.̨̱͑͡ Y͜͝ô̯̻͖̎̀ṵ̃͜͞ s̡̃t̯͕̝͊̀̅ả̡͕͆rt̼͚̎͘͢͝ s̩͙̀̔́͜p̡̗̓̀͟͡e̘̎ȁ̞̻̈͆͢k̰̗̈́͆i̧͞n̡̢͂̍g͖͎͊̃ a̤̙̓̽ḅ̧͌̾̇ͅo̱̞̺͂̆̊u̧̗͓̓̌̆t̠͌ ḧ͔͕̏̌͟er̲̔ s͚̰̓̔͠ͅo͕̳̬͛̽̑m̞̠̤͛̓͡è͍̹̖̑̇t͈͕̳͑͑̑ȉ̫m̘̻̳̈͂̚e̻̖̱̎͋͋s̱̻̅̌ ā͍͎̒ñ̜͍̘̍̀d s͈͎̉̆t̥̓o̰̓p͕̫̏̈ y͖̱̐̏̚͢o͎̲̮͒͆̕ư̥͐͜r͚̔s̡̲͐͘e̙̓lf.̙̖͋͒”̗̻̔͡

“I̧͈̅̑͟͠ d̮̅o͕̬̼̒͐͌?̭͍̀̒ S̪͠ȍ̞̙͌r̜̕r̢͌ȳ̧̛͕,̩̓ t̘̫͑̉h̛͕̘̪̋̾a̛̼t̢̙̲͂͋͞’̖̳͂͛s p̳̓r̤͈̓͋̍͜o̭̺̍̈b͈̖̕͠ą̣̯́̒͌b͙̘́́lỹ̳ om̝̈ì̩͙̜̐̑n͇̬̩̍̍͞ō̢͍̞̓͂ȗ̗͙̀ș̀̚͢ an̝̻̄̂d̮̻͌̓ i͚̰̰͑̓̏ṛ̔r̨̔̈͟ï̛̝̪̹̌t̜̗̔̑á͕̂͟t̟̓i͇͈̓̅ń͉͙͉̉͗g.̯̳͉̿̔͆ À͍̗͔͗̊n̻̿y͍͒t̘̔ḧ̤́iṉ̡̩̽̈́͠g͔͝ í͈̚ͅn̨̨̄̎ p̤̚a̝̘͑͆͊͢r͚̬͋̀t̢̳̓̾ic̛̦̾͢ư̮̼̾l̢͊a̧̬̣͐͛͝ṙ̜̹̇ ȳ̬̻̦͌͋o͖̪̯͋͋̀u̬̜͊͝’͉͝r͚͌e̢̱̲̓̅̏ ‘̢͈͐̚͢͡c͎͔̀͒u̓ͅṙ͎͈̉i̮̊ou͔͉͒̐̅͢s͎̩̿̿͜͝’̝̉ a̞͝b͕̩͓̒̅́ȏ̳͙̺̐̓ṷ̠̾͋́ͅț͡,̛͙ S̬̗̽̓ů͓̋͘͢͟ṇ̰̂̓sḧ̪͉̰̌͝í̯̿ͅn̜̝͆̕e̛̯̤͝?̡̩͊̀”

“W̲̗͊̀h̭̒a̪̓t̨̝́̚ w͙͓̙̋͆̚á͖͈͛͒͜s̯̞̜̈́͐͘ s̖͕͑͛h̨͠e͉͠ lĭ̪k͎͌ȇ̲͎͘?”

“̹̬̏́Th̫͓̎̊͢͞ḁ̓t͕̤̾̕’̱̍̉ͅṡ͙̳̭̔͂..̝̐.͙͙̓͠ a͚͘ c̭̘̦̋͂͌om͇͞ṕ͖͎̔lī̼̬̑c͓̊a͉̭͛̄t͕̣̟͑͛͗e̺̐d̗̅ q͈̲͛̒u͙̺͍͑̐̌e͇̼͐͐s͈̑ţ̝̍̕͡ͅi̪͔̅̎o͈͕͓̾͒̂n.̼͖̔͡ I͇͊ ñ̹̗̒e͙̦͑̍v̗̕ḛ̔r̜͂ r̻̂͡ͅe̼̝̱̽̃̈́a̖͚̱̅̇̾l̰͗l͙̪̤̅͑͡ẙ̛̮̰ g̮̒o͖̊t̠̍ t̗̅o͂͟ kn̰̗̫͑̂͆o͚̯̔͘w̭͙̍͊ h̩͙̥̅͑̋e͙͇͋͡ṛ͓̝̾͑͘ m̰̞͓̅̔̍y̯͇͔̿̉͡s͕̗̐̽͗͢ę͙̱̍͐̒l͚̇f̫̻̬̃͂͞ y̱͔̦̌͊͝o̗̬͑͒͜͞ủ̜ ḱ͉̺̇n̤̼͂̊ow̤̐?͚̹̦̓̿͋ B̡̨̺͗̏͘ü̺t̟̦͍̄̈͠ ȋ͓f͇̰̦͑̎͠ G̳̓ra̗̔m̼̙͊͘ṗ̪̏ͅs a̢͞nd̰͓͐̓ L̙̍ũ̘̮̥͆̚L͔̭̈̄ụ̜̎̐ ả̬̺̈́r͓͔͞͞e̋͜ t̻͗ŏ̗͕̓͑͜ be͓͝ b͖͓̥̓̂̕ḗ͍͍l̨͔͆͠i̳̣̲͑̆̓ě̺ṿ̺̓͛͢͞ed̘̤͑͑͟͞ s̜̹̜̈́͊͛h͎̙͛̇ě͈̻͌ was̡̯̯̍̏̈́ so͍̞͊͠mĕ͓̰̃ s̠̹̓̄o̥͛r̡̖̄̇t̢͞ o̬̘̿͞f̨͛ t͇̪͑͂er̮͓̎͋̒͟r̝̓i̯̅f̨͛y̢̦̯͊̚͡i̟͂n̖̮̺̿͌͛g͈̠̾͗ m͓̜̐͒o̺͚̲͒̎̔n̮͐s͚̪̹͂̂͆tè͜r t̬̲͔̊̍̾h̫̹̍̎ã̢t̳͍̐͆̕͟ w͍̳͋͝as̟͉̈́͐ ȁ̹̅͜ t͔̰̀̒̎͜ę̖́͊r͓̪̋̂͆͟ri͌ͅb͙̅̎͟ĺ͉̮͗ȩ̯͗͘ d̛̹͎̓ȃ̻̳̖̒͞ng̳̮̐̄e̝̻̩̓̄͗r̹̳͐̑ t̜̍o͍̔ t̲͉̼́̈́̔ḫ̇e ‘̮̯̲̏̈́̌GR͓͙̾͒Ę̤̔̍A̯͙̓̀T P̖͐L̰̒A̙̻͑̚N T̘͛H̱͐A̪̺͐̅T̻̎ N̍͟O̬͌ O̧͔̥̒͒͗N̉͜E̬͡ Ş͒̈́ͅP͇̙̞̌͞͡E̞͚̍̇À̤̭̫̈̽Ķ̹͒͛S͉͌̕͜͟͝ Ỏ͎F͎͘.̡̫̀̓”̼̟̒̑

“̛̣̱͚́́.̩͑.̟̜͕̉͒̏.̯̬̓͠ L̹̏ṵ͔͚̂̌̄Lu͓͆?̪͔̐͝”͈̘̞̆̒͡

“̲̬̺̔̐̓L̹̈ik̭̔ẻ͍̇̄͜͜ t̡̃h̺͈͆̍a̻̩̓̈t̫̍̽ͅ?̖͒ I͎͕͎̿̅̔’̲͔͑͌vȩ̥̳͐̽̕ b̮͚̔̄ẽ̤e̤̓n͕͛̃͢ ẗ̟̰́̀͝ͅr̠͐y͈̳͒̑i͔̺̜̔̅̚n̥̎ģ̜͂́ ò͖̙̦̀̔ū̢t̢͕̻̍̽͌ s̮͑ơ͟m̦͆e͔̓ n̙̳̂͠e̱̦̱͑̽̊w n̕ͅi̻̔c̤͔̲̀̋͞k̜͉̒͘ň͇a̫̦̎͋͝ͅṁ̺ẽ͖̭͗s f̳̳͉̂͊͞o̤͌r̢̤̽͘͡ͅ o̰͖͛̉u̺͎͓͗̑̀r̞̒ g̮̽l̡̥͖̂̑̑o̻̙͒̄͛͜r̢̜͍͗̋̏i͔̋͜͞ou͕͐ś̳͈̔ l͔̳̙̓̆̃ea̗̒d͇̥͖̐̅̂ė͕̻̰̕͞r.̰͚̀̚ S̼͙̞̈̊̾hě͇͍̯͋͝ HÄ̲T̪̄E̩͌S t̜̀ĥ̬̠̜͒̐a̭̪̙̾͑͘t̟͕̏͡ o̳͇̭͐̉̃n̹̮̔̀e͍̱̮̅͌͠-̛͉̦̍“̠͛

* * *

* * *

“And you’ve already left your mind so vulnerable.”

He can’t look at her. It. Them.

There is a cabinet that has been left ajar behind the buzzing shadow form. Reborn finds himself hyper focusing on a glittering orange mug that is shaped like a smiling cat. It is strangely comforting.

“Hmm, well, I don’t really have much of a choice now do I? You’re not going to be able to process this and I’m sure Inari-chan will be cross with me if I break you.”

The world tilts dangerously as ‘Maman’ looms in even closer bringing her other massive buzzing shadow hand comes to his faces. He can still hear Shamal’s dissociative stream of ‘what the fuck’ but it’s being drowned out by what sounds like a drone of multiplying voices holding a single endless note.

That crescent slash of a smile widens as one of her hands drift down to the pacifier at his throat. Reborn can’t entirely reign in the panic that hits when she touches it and-

“Sorry to keep doing this to you, sweetie, but it’s very irritating to work around dad’s circuitry.”

His bones crack, his organs stretch, and suddenly Reborn’s perspective of the room shifts dramatically.

Maman keeps her hand on his face as she pulls the other out of his chest a bright and blinding node of light held delicately between her thumb and forefinger. Her being stabilizes in his vision for a moment. Before the blur of tears obfuscates his surroundings.

He will remember to feel humiliated about this later. Bad form, you don’t show emotion on the job. You don’t show your weak spots. The cracks in your armour. You don’t have a right to tears. You don’t have a right.

“Sorry, I’m probably doing this wrong,” she says without sounding the least bit apologetic, “I know humans aren’t supposed to grow that fast... this probably would have been even more troublesome if you didn’t have so much of Helios in you.”

Shamal hits the ground with a thud.

“Shamal-“ He says and stops at the sound of his voice.

His real voice.

“That’s probably for the best. I’m actually surprised that he managed to hold on as long as he did. Another complication, a rogue note.”

Her grip on his face tightens and he finds himself getting wrenched in close. Reborn just barely manages to hold back a scream as agony explodes in every muscle, joint, tendon, ligament, and bone in his body.

“Tell me, did he come here to hurt my babies too? Should I pop him like a balloon like I did the others~”

“Don’t!” He manages to snap.

Shamal, for all that he has fucked up in his life, is one of Reborn’s idiots.

He reaches out and grabs onto Maman’s shoulder. Breathing heavily though his nose and willing his legs not to give out on him.

“Please... don’t hurt him.”

He watches intently as she cocks her head to the side and her smile gentles somewhat.

“You’re a good boy, Reborn-chan. Stop trying to clamp down on that kindness so often it’s not good for you.”

The node of light that she’s still holding between her fingers flashes ominously and Reborn finds himself flinching away reflexively.

Leon hisses.

And he can hear the Lackey, Skull, screaming.

“Honestly, why he thought this entire system of his was a good idea in the first place is beyond me. Nothing against you or the other sacrifices, Reborn-chan, but he has you all doing the work of Atlas and even he crumbled under the weight in the end.”

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything she says, but he knows that for the first time in nearly twenty years he doesn’t feel like he’s being eaten from the inside out. For the first time in nearly twenty years he looks like himself.

And he’s terrified.

He can still hear Skull screaming.

“I’m surprised that any of you can function as well as you can with the rate of consumption.”

She touches his forehead and something tears. It’s not painful. More of a sudden numbness.

“No worrying about cracked eggs now. Just try to breathe, Reborn-chan.”

The humming begins and Reborn focuses on that silly little cat mug while the world starts to darken around the edges. His knees buckle and he has to brace against counter top, briefly marvelling at the fact that he can reach the countertop, to avoid getting viscera all over his pants.

And these are the clothes that he wore THAT day.

“Don’t fret, you won’t even remember how much this is going to hurt. And then I’ll have you back to... well I won’t say normal, but I’ll have you back in working order in no time at all. And then you have to hurry on your way.”

No.

No. Please, no.

He doesn’t want to go back.

These are his hands.

This is his body.

He’s himself. He can do more as himself. He can protect them better as himself.

He doesn’t want-

He can’t-

Please don’t twist me again.

Don’t shove that inside me again.

He doesn’t understand what she is. What this woman is that she has any command of the Arcobaleno curse at all.

Did she say Dad?

Reborn’s thoughts become a whirlwind.

Does Iemitsu know?!

Do Tsunayoshi and Inari know?!

“What-“ he cokes on the words as pain explodes somewhere deep in his brain.

“What am I?” She giggles, “You’ve asked that before haven’t you? Not here, but, hum~”

Reborn is slammed violently up against the wall and her smile turns dark again. Her light bleeding back into her eyes and mouth.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. It’s not like you’ll remember. I am-

**A musician,**

**A composer,**

**A mother,**

**I am The Master of the Sky,**

**I am the King of Thunder,**

**I am ...”**

The pain. He can’t-

Reborn is sure that he’s screaming, but he can’t hear himself beyond the other screaming voices.

* * *

* * *

“̋͊̌S͌̀un̈͝͠s̍̈̀h͂̕͝i͗͠n̾ẽ,̛ R̐ĕ͊n̑͊͠,̈́͒͡ s̓t́a̾͂͐y͗ wi̍̕t̾̓ḧ́ m̕e̎̎͝.͒ P͊͋ĺe͂͌͠ả̉͠s̿é̆͑,̄͘ I͌̐̔’̅v̌̿́ĕ g̾ö́t̃͞ ỷ̐͡ó̓͡u̿͒͛.̒̚ Î͞’͒vè̊ g̍͗̓o̍̚t͐ y͌ơ͌͑ù̂͝ s̾͛͆ô̄ pl͛̏̀e͡a̾̕s̄ë̒ j̉͞ǘs̐͂ṫ ś͊̋t̍͋͝a̓̄͘y̆̌͌ ẃ̓i̓t͠h́ m̀̎͌é͞.͒̈͞”

* * *

* * *

“ **I am the memory of a dream...** ”

* * *

* * *

“Thank you so much for saving me, Reborn-chan~ I’m sure your friend will take good care of me while you go help my boys.”

She twists the node of light firmly into the centre of his chest and Reborn can vaguely hear someone sobbing apologizes.

‘My dearest, my darling, I’m sorry. My Liege, please have mercy. I beg of you. If you have the power to break this curse don’t inflict it upon him again. He has paid enough. More than his share. Please-“

“Don’t overstep, Thing. Reborn-chan was the one who made the deal.”

‘He was deceived!”

Reborn feels his heart stop as the Node is pushed deeper and deeper into his chest by a hand that is smaller than it looks and larger than it seems.

“Ignorance is not an excuse, Thing. You should know that by now.”

‘NO!’

His vision whites out completely.

* * *

* * *

“I thought you would have outgrown this human sacrifice phase of yours by now, Dad.”

...

“No, no it really isn’t working. You can try and argue all you like I’m the one who has to do the patchwork.”

...

“... I suppose you’re right.”

...

* * *

* * *

Reborn bolts across rooftops at breakneck speed. He has nearly flooded his ... body with sun flames. Pushing harder than he has in a long time. Activating muscle, reinforcing bone.

It’s not entirely sustainable. He will probably be sore later, but right now he needs to get to Tsunayoshi and Inari. Before someone else gets to them first.

Maman will be fine. She might be a little shaken from the attack, but she is much more resilient than Reborn had initially given her credit for. And until Nono manages to activate Vongola’s allies in the region Shamal will watch her.

Reborn bounds over the chain link fence of the school and lands with a plume of dust.

Inari had cheekily sent him a text regarding aliens attacking the school. Reborn very much doubts aliens have anything to do with the current state of affairs. Smoke and fire and screaming children paint a very grim picture of the situation at the school. No it is not aliens.

It is something much more mundane.

Assassins.

Assassins who have made the grave error of attacking those under Reborn’s protection.

He takes out the terrible sniper on the roof who is taking shots at small boys as they flee the premises. A coward who obviously didn’t pay enough attention to the job dossier that he was given. Reborn is somewhat disgusted from a professional standpoint as well as a personal one.

If you can’t spot your target Don’t. Fucking. Shoot.

Mass casualties and panic are bad for business.

The ground shakes and Reborn catches the shadow of something massive round the school building followed closely by a woman wearing a crisp white lab coat.

There is an enforcer from the Sicilian Alliance moving purposefully through the second floor.

There are men dressed in black suits and body armour bearing the Della Rosa crest moving in small platoons around the building.

There is the acrid smell of poison wafting through the air.

Time to get to work.

* * *

* * *

It’s easy enough to find Dame-Tsuna and the boys. All Reborn really has to do is listen for the pitchy shrieks that alert anyone within a half mile radius of his exact location.

Dame-Tsuna couldn’t keep quiet to save his life.

...

Perhaps not the best analogy to use at the moment. Even if there isn’t a fault in Reborn’s logic.

“HIEEE! Gokudera-kun, watch-“

“Ten- Tsuna-Sama, stand back!”

Reborn rounds the corridor in time to see Yamamoto haul Dame-Tsuna out of the line of fire and over his shoulder as Gokudera, Shamal’s suicidal pet project that Reborn is somewhat terrified to get invested in though he will obviously need to at this point, lights two handfuls of dynamite using the cigarettes in his mouth to light the fuses.

He is going to have to have a discussion with Shamal about why he thought dynamite, of all things, was an appropriate weapon to give... anyone really. But giving it to an angry, anxious, hormonal teenager was the height of irresponsibility. Knowing Shamal it probably started off as some form of projection because Reborn had refused to let him travel around with the Ebola Virus in his pocket.

Because no, no he was not going to play any part in that, thank you. He didn’t care how much Shamal bitched that he was a ‘responsible scientist’ then (and now).

This is why he will never introduce Shamal to Virgil. No matter ho much the idiot gushes over his dissertations and studies. Knowing Reborn’s luck he would wake up one day a fully sentient skeleton with a flayed nervous system and the two of them would be giddily taking notes as his body tried to put itself back together.

The first round of explosions goes off knocking the group of Della Rosa agents back down the hallway and snapping Reborn out of his extremely unhelpful train of thought.

The second volley of dynamite does not detonate. He fuse fizzles out under the ripples of icy blue flames.

“Shit!” Gokudera swears as the second take aim with their weapons.

They don’t get a chance to fire a single shot. Reborn has the lot of them flattened to the linoleum before Dame-Tsuna has the chance to start squealing again.

“Re-Reborn!” His student yelps and scurries over Yamamoto and crawls across down the hall to Reborn. There is terror written across his face and Reborn can’t fault him for that.

Tsuna wasn’t prepared for something of this magnitude. Hell, Reborn wasn’t prepared for an assault of this magnitude this early on.

Title aside.

Lineage aside.

Reborn’s dedication to his job aside...

Tsunayoshi is just a boy. A civilian boy.

Reborn could scream ‘you’re going to be a mafia boss’ until he’s blue in the face, but it doesn’t change that face. Nothing will change that fact.

“What’s going on! Who are all these guys!? Why do they keep asking about Inari?! Why-“

Dame-Tsuna grabs him by the shoulders and starts shaking him back and forth.

Which pretty effectively kills the moment of calm acceptance, goodwill, and understanding that Reborn had been building to. Reborn doesn’t tolerate casual touching and manhandling on a good day and today is by no stretch of the imagination a good day.

His skin crawls.

He has had the ‘don’t touch without permission’ talk with Dame-Tsuna. Twice. So his student really should have seen this coming.

“HIE! You didn’t have to throw me!” The boy whines, rubbing his backside.

“What have I told you about casual touching, Dame-Tsuna?” He snaps back. And immediately regrets it.

This really isn’t the time or place.

Besides, trial and error has taught him that, yes, he does in fact have to go to extremes to get anything through Tsuna’s head. It takes a sledgehammer and a diamond tipped precision drill to get anything through that thick skull and the mental obfuscation caused by that fucking seal on his will.

One day, Nono will have the balls to answer his phone calls again and he will be forced to listen to Reborn tell him about the ethics of sealing anyone, let alone a child. And the various detrimental effects that it can have on a person physically and psychologically.

These past few months have been an enlightening experience as he’s done the best he can to hunt down experts in the field of flame sealing to try and find the best way of working around it.

Reborn sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Calm down, Dame-Tsuna. You’re going to draw more attention to us.”

The boy immediately stiffens and smacks his hands over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

Gokudera and Yamamoto pull Tsuna to his feet and Reborn observes the three of them.

Three of them...

“Where is Inari?” He asks with a grim certainty that he isn’t going to like the answer he gets. There is an insistent tugging in his chest that tells him that he’s in the wrong place.

“He crawled up into the vents like a fucking gremlin,” Gokudera’s snipes, “Said he was going to go grab some weapons and shit.”

“And these...” Reborn pauses to regard the bodies of the Della Rosa agents on the linoleum.

“Dicks?” Yamamoto throws out cheerfully.

Reborn inclines his head in an easy agreement ignoring the somewhat mortified look that Dame-Tsuna shoots his friend, “Dicks, were looking for Inari specifically?”

“Yeah, they were all like ‘Hand over Inari Sawada!’ Which seems like a really dumb way for assassins to go looking for someone,” He laughs.

Reborn hadn’t been aware that Yamamoto had been brought up to speed on the mafia, but he seems to have adapted remarkably quickly.

“Reborn, they were calling him Vongola Decimo. Inari’s not-“ Tsuna cuts off with a strange choking sound.

“He said he would meet us in the science lab,” Yamamoto interjects, “He was going to head to the classroom first to get my bat and his bag.”

“How long ago?”

“Not too long five or ten minutes.”

Tsuna makes a few more choking sounds and rubs at his throat.

“Somethings wrong,” He says, his face pale and terrified.

And Reborn feels-

Panic. Intense panic that is alien and familiar all at once.

* * *

* * *

**Heshurtingyoursky.Heshuringhim.youhavetosavehim.youhavetohurry.savehim.**

* * *

* * *

“Get in the science lab and barricade the doors behind you,” Reborn orders, “I’ll get Inari and we will meet you there.”

“But Reborn-“

“I don’t have time to argue with you, Tsunayoshi.”

Tsuna’s mouth presses into a firm line and his eyes flicker with a topaz light and he nods.

“Save him. Please.”

Reborn is flying down the corridor before Tsuna finishes speaking.

* * *

* * *

The hallways of the school are all uniform and colourless, and as Reborn moves quickly and purposefully through them he can’t help but think that the brat must hate this building.

He encounters three more roadblocks on his way. A combination of freelancers and some uniformed Della Rosa agents blocking escape routes and terrorizingthe students who were not lucky enough to escape yet. He makes sure to take them down so that the groups of terrified children can make their way through to the Disciplinary Committee members who are ushering their fellow students to safety.

“Holy shit! Was that a baby?!”

No, his is not. And he does not have time for this.

Reborn leaps out of the nearby window and floods his body with flames to easily make the jump up the two stories to the boy’s classroom window and sees-

* * *

* * *

Inari flat on his back. Pressed down hard across the desk. The teacher, Anri Nakamura, is on top of him with a crushing grip on his neck and a look of such malice on her face-

* * *

* * *

H̑̃ȅ͂ d̉̄o̿e̊̄s̔́̽n̒’́͐͛ẗ̛́ f̀i͘͞g̎h̓̚ť w͂̔͂h̆è̏n̏̇͝ ť͞͝h͛e͑͗͡ m͌õn̈̿̌s̀t̐̄è̿̏ř̈͡ w͆̿̄e͑̂̕a̓͛r̅̀̈ȉ̆̓n̉̑g͗ t́̓́h̓͑̊ê̅̒ f̔ace̒̋ o̔̒f͑̾ a͋̈͑ m̒̌ãn͛ f̆́̒orćē̃͡s̀̒͡ hi̊̊͋m̑ d̂ǒ͗̕wn̏̀.́̎ D̎̎ö́w̉̍n̍ on͆͠to͗̋ T̓̓HȆ̾I̊̎͌Ŕ B͐̐̉Ë́̀͂D̈.̒̎͗ T̃h̆̊e̐ir̈́̓ p̒̃̓l͐͞a̓̚͞c̏̿e͋ ò̂f̃͐͛ p̑̋e̔̍͠a͂́c͆̌̂e̎̂͡ a͗nd̂͆̒ s̽a̐̂f̎̑̌ë͊͞ẗ́ȳ͐͞.͐

* * *

* * *

Inari is thrashing and struggling as best he can.

Reborn is struck hard by the terror.

And then his vision bleeds red.

* * *

* * *

H̆i͂̑s̋̉͡ ľ͠o͐̇v̒̽͑e d͗͋̆o̎̾̕e̽sň̚’̀̀̎ť̀̄ s̿̐t́͆ru̍̾g̈́g͂̽̾ĺ͋̈́e̛̒̎.̈́̆ D̿ö́̾es̅̎͡n̈́̚’̒̀̽t͗ ṡ́ô mu͛̐c͆h as̓̓̾ f̀͘l̎in̐̾ch.̉̋̚ F́͗͞o̍ŕ̅͠ a̾̒ lȍnğ̅̕ t̂̌î̏m̔e t̅͒́hẻ͞rě î̿s͋͘͞ n͌ō͘t̊̈̔h͊̑in̚g b̑͒͞u̐̔͂t a͡ c̓͐́o͆̉́ld̋ ȃ́̒b̅s̃͂͠e͛̀̒ǹ͝c̆́͠ē̕.̀͘

D͝i̅s̛̃ä́͂s͑s͆o̚c͒̔̊ia̐̂́ti̋̉ò̌ṅ̚.͆

D̍e͋̃͗f͂̏̓e͛̒at͝.͆

Ân͛͂̋d̎̌ h͆̚e̿̂ mi͑g̀̒̈́h̔̎t̄ b͐́e̐́͘ n̉́̂ot̿̓͗h̎ïn͛̓g̔̒ m̏o̚r̀̀̾e̍̌͡ t͛͋̀ȟ͠a̅n̛͞ ã̈͂ mĕmȍ́̆r͆͠y ȧť́̽ t̀̇h͌̈́̽is̏͗͒ p͐͌ô̏i͛͒̚n̛͆͝t͡,̐́ b̽ut̍ h͡e͆̑ r̊͛a̐g̑e̐s͆ ŕ̈e͠͞g̿̍̓ä̐ŕ̿̽d̿le̒͘ss.̅̂

Ť̇̀h̍̚͠e͑r̚è̍ i͐̈͡s ä́ c͂̃̉ỏ̀̐l͡d̕n̊e̋s̑͛̽s͗̏ ǐ̇̂n̏ c̊̈a͛͡͞l̕͘c̾u̿l̎at̎̒i̎̏͘ön̏.͂͋̅

A̅ s͌a͂̀͒d̛̅n͠ẽ̕s̒̀͘s̀̕ í̏ń d̅́et̊ȅrm̈́i̛̒́ṅ͑̅a̓t͋͞ĩo͞n.͋͋̍

Aǹd̃̎̕ he͛̃̏ m̀i̍͂̃ǵh̀͐t o̊͘n̾͠͠l͠y̓͝ be̅͆̓ a̓̚ w̒̽͡ì̑s̃̌͠ṕ̓.́

A͂ m̛e͌͒m̂̑ơ̅̎ry̕.̓̕͞

A̎̒ s̽y̽m̂͞p͆̓̂t̛̏͑ơṁ͌ ơ̊͑f t̓̃̚h̃̑e̓ d̓̚e͑͒c̓a͒͘ÿ͠ and͝ m̀̊͝ádn͊͂̒e͞s̄̾s͐̅͠ i͒̂̉n̑ t͗͞h̐̋e̊i̎̿͂r w̏̌ǒr͆l̊d̏̏.̓͐͝

B́̒ut̐͌.͋͗.͡.͋͋

* * *

* * *

Reborn crashes though the pain glass window without a thought and slams into the woman with enough force to send her flying clear across the room. She crashes into the teachers podium with a cry of pain. And Reborn is vaguely aware that there is a distortion around her form now.

Not that he particularly cares who it’s is. They will die regardless.

* * *

* * *

**Divide by sevens and start again...**

* * *

* * *

7̛͗ 7̏̅ 7̀̐̽7̔ 7̔̌7͠ 7̉ 7 7̽͂7̅

7̉̚. 77̎͠ 7̊̂͝7̅̐͞ 7̆. 7̍̿

7̍̚͘7̐ 7̈̃̂. 7̏͐7͛͗͐ 7̀͒̌ 7̏́7͒̉ 7͋7͞

* * *

* * *

B͂u̍̐̕t̏̽ ḧ͂̂e̿͌ h͘͘a̓ś́̇ ȏ́̿n̒͘e̒ l̂͊̈â̒͡s͡ẗ́̃ dre̽̃a͑ḿ th͌͐̈́a͆̂t h̆͘͞ȇ́͘ h̀̊ȧs͂̃ b̊̄ë́̆en͋̄͡ h̍́̊ol͋͊̐d̛͑̎ī̍n̋g ǒn͠ t̔̐o̒.̓͡.̏.̽͊

“̆Y͠o͝ű͘r̒ n̿͗̚ot̂̐ th́̌̍í̕s̆̀́ ki͑̃n͝͝d̓̐̒ ö͐̓f̿̍̽ c̛͠r̒͐a̒͞z̋y,̏͡ M̓i͋͋͝o͒ C͛͡a̒́r̚͞o͊̀,́”̌̉͘ H͌e̐ w̅͛̕h̓i̓s̉p̉̐́e͛rs w͠i͆t̅͛͝h͌ l̉̊o̎v͗e,̿́̚ “̾T͛̃͝h͡e͞͠͠ s͑p̿̌̋ȁ̈́͡r̓e̅͝ i͛̚s un̔̎d͌͌̈è̈́r͞ t̓̄̊h̊͗é̕ pi̓͒ll̛̂̍o͡͡w̓̾̽.̛́̍”̀

Ă͊͌n͋d h̔̏͒ȅ f̛͝a̿̂d͗͆e͗̄̋s̑͛͘ a̾̿w͒a̛͒̿y̔̽ l̛i̅̉͡k̑̎e̓ d̉u͂͆s̃t̛̔̓ o͂̚n̈́́ t̏h̾̊ë́ w͌̿̽i̎n̅̀d.̃͂͑

* * *

* * *

The cretin that had the audacity to try an pass themselves off as a teacher tries to push back. Reborn, weak as he is to illusions and mists, can feel the twisting wrongness of a panicked illusion.

Inari is coughing and gasping for air.

“Keep your filth hands off my student,” Reborn snarls.

Because he can’t quite bring himself to say ‘My Sky.’

He raises Leon, who has become a magnum in his hand, more Lal’s weapon of choice than his, but if Leon wants to add a personal flair to this execution Reborn isn’t going to argue.

He doesn’t blink as he pulls the trigger and the shot rings out loudly in the classroom.

Indigo fire begins to burn away at the edges of the the body slowly changing the form as blood oozes.

Inari sobs and Reborn turns to see his ridiculous brat flub an attempt to pull himself up off the floor. He tries again and starts sobbing even harder. It’s not a pleasant sound by any stretch of the imagination. A rattling, gasping wheeze punctuated by the ring of already bruising skin around his delicate throat.

Reborn is at his side before he realizes that he has moved at all. He’s wary to touch, he doesn’t want to scare Inari more than he already has been.

“Kid,” He tries softly as Inari fall flat onto his back sobbing harder and harder until he is hyperventilating.

There is a wretched pang in Reborn’s chest as he reaches out a hand toward the... his...

“Kid.”

He moves slowly and gently rests a hand on Inari’s shoulder. Rubbing slow circles in an attempt to calm him. To no effect. Inari’s panic continues to escalate until he is caught in a series of halting gasps.

Reborn isn’t sure what motivates his next action. If he was ever called to explain he might have called it a gut feeling.

Muscle memory.

It was the most natural thing in the world.

After all it had always worked before.

Before what, he has no idea.

The fedora drops down over the brat’s head and eyes and the sobbing almost immediately stops.

“Ragazzo!” he tries once more. This time taking one of Inari’s cold hand between his own and slowly opens the floodgates for his flames to start flowing through their connection.

“Re-Reborn?”

“You’re alright,” Reborn says gently as he can, “Just breathe.”

Thankfully, the brat obeys and manages to steady is breathing. It still sounds painful and is accompanied by a concerning rattle. He does what he can to direct his flames toward the damage.

It’s not something he has a great deal of experience with, but it seems to be working. Thought something feels... strange. Like the majority of his flames are being directed to something much more vast and damaged.

A snort of laughter distracts him and Inari proceeds to push himself up on his forearms. He fixes Reborn with a look of dazed, gleeful affection.

“Oh my god. Your hair is amazing~”

The wild mess of wiry curls are not something that he is particularly proud of. Not that he is particularly proud of any aspect of his appearance these days. But the compliment rings so honestly in the brat’s voice that Reborn can’t bring himself to take offence.

He watches as Inari awkwardly fiddles with the brim of the fedora before striking a wobbly pose.

“How cool do I look?” he asks with a sniffle.

Reborn can’t help the fond smile that breaks across his face, ”Brat.”

Inari then tries to turn and examine the mess behind him. Reborn tugs firmly on the front of his shirt and makes him refocus on him.

“Not yet.”

“What?”

“Don’t question it, just listen to me. Do you know where you are?” Reborn asks. The kid took some pretty sever blows to the head. And while Inari is tougher than most he would be remiss not to do ask questions to make sure.

“School. Reborn, what’s-“

Not as specific as he could have been, but accurate.

“Do you know what’s happening right now?”

“Yeah, weird guys, assassins...” Reborn watches the blood drain from his face, “TSUNA!”

Inari immediately whines and reaches for his throat. From the look on his face that exclamation had some painful consequences.

“Tsuna is fine,” Reborn says, “He wasn’t the one who charged into an unknown, hostile situation with no backup.”

“Awww, were you worried about me?”

“You have the self preservation instincts of a stoned lemming, you terrible brat,” Reborn shoots back.

“Inari laugh-sobs and reborn loosens his stranglehold on his flames a little to let more flow through between them.

He’s once again being met with the sparking bubbles of harmony.

And what is he supposed to do with that?

“Is Mrs. Nakamura dead?” Inari asks suddenly.

“Yes.”

There really is no point in hiding it.

“Oh... good.”

Reborn keeps a careful eye on Inari and makes a mental note. It might be the shock, but this wouldn’t be the first time that Inari has been exceptionally casual about death.

“Was she an assassin the whole time?”

Reborn has to consider that question for a moment. The complicated layers of mist flames are still burning away from the corpse. This incident, combined with the questionable personal history that Reborn had dug up on Anri Nakamura and her antagonism toward the Sawada brothers would indicate that this individual, whoever she truly was, was a plant of some sort.

He can’t really make any definite claims to her intentions. But the results speak for themselves.

It won’t do to leave Inari with ambiguity.

He will have to do some digging into potential backers and motivations later.

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“No.”

“How?”

Because, contrary to popular belief, Reborn is not actually clairvoyant. And his ability to detect illusions is nonexistent thanks to Shamal’s block.

Which might pose a problem if proficient mist users are going to be targeting the brothers.

Reborn impassively watches the last of the illusion burn away and doesn’t answer. There is too many layers to that answer that he really isn’t comfortable discussing with a teenager at the tail end of a panic attack.

“What the fuck?” Inari breathes in confusion as he is finally able to turn and observe the disfigured person lying dead on the ground.

“I admit that illusionists are not my strong suit,” Reborn says simply in an attempt to fill the silence and keep the brat talking.

“What?”

Reborn sighs, “We are going to have a conversation in the very near future, Ragazzo, believe me. However, this is not the time or place for it. Now, we are going to go find Dame-Tsuna and the boys before they try to do something stupid.”

“Kay.”

Inari slowly and carefully pulls himself to his feet. Once he’s vertical Reborn pierces himself on his boulder and lays a hand on the back of his neck. Inari flinches slightly and Reborn remains motionless and giving him time to adjust to the contact before reopening the connection between them and letting the sun flames through.

“That is the best superpower ever~”

...

Reborn smiles and very carefully does not think of a man who died screaming.

“It comes in handy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Attack Update!
> 
> One of the fun things about writing Sass and Win is the loveable and extremely unreliable narrator. Writing the same series of events from Reborn’s perspective is fun for entirely different reasons. 
> 
> He was dealing with so much of his own shit ... and, you know, the terrifying mama bear. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I always love hearing from you all 🥰
> 
> See you next time~


	11. Fragmented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a vision of pure chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between chapters 9 and 10 of Sass and Win.

It is a vision of pure chaos.

That is the purest and simplest term that Reborn can think of to describe the scene within the middle school gymnasium. Bodies and debris are strewn across the floor. A sizeable hole in the wall and roof from where the giant creature had come tearing its way through. An equally sizeable crater being melted into the waxed floor where it’s slowly dissolving.

Reborn isn’t certain if the creature was itself comprised of corrosive material or if whatever compound Shamal used to reduce it to such a state was responsible for the unsettling sight. Quite frankly he can’t really bring himself to care at the moment. He has more pressing concerns.

“Ow!” Tsunayoshi whimpers and tries to pull his hands away from Shamal, “stop that hurts!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO TSUNA-SAMA, ASSHOLE!?” Hayato demands as he struggles to restrain the Bovino spawn. 

“I’m trying to do my job you irritating little gnat,” Reborn hears Shamal mutter back under his breath.

“OW!” Tsuna flinches back again.

And Inari’s body twitches at the exclamation... impossible little brat. Apparently, he won’t rest even when rendered unconscious, flame exhausted and injured.

Somehow, Reborn feels like he already knew all that. 

“DON’T WORRY TSUNA-SAMA! AS SOON AS I GET RID OF THIS STUPID COW I’LL KILL HIM FOR YOU!”

“NO MORE KILLING!” Tsuna shrieks, “I don’t want to see any more dead people today!”

... Today is an interesting modifier coming from Tsunayoshi. Reborn would have thought that the kid would be aggressively screaming recriminations and ‘never again.’

Or curling into a ball and sobbing. 

Reborn glances to the crumpled body of the woman that he had watched his student takedown. 

The crumpled dead body. 

He sighs heavily. 

One more thing to add to the ever-growing list of things he has to discuss with the Sawada brothers. Reborn hadn’t anticipated having to discuss killing with the twins until much later. But once again it seems like the forces of chaos have interjected to disrupt his carefully blueprinted plans. 

He isn’t sure if Tsunayoshi has realized what he’s done yet. And now isn’t the right time to bring it up with him. 

Later. 

Once they’ve left this disaster behind them and they’ve had a chance to recover. 

Reborn might be a sadist, but he sees no point in being needlessly cruel if there are benefits for his student to glean. 

Reborn watches as Tsunayoshi and Hayato shout back and forth at one another. Takeshi interjects from the other side of the gym at one point prompting the explosive kid to stomp off to argue with him, letting his former teacher work. 

... Reborn is going to have to factor this lot into his new curriculum once he has a chance to design it. 

“Stop squirming, little Vongola,” Shamal snaps, “it’s irritating enough that I have to play nurse to a boy. Don’t make this more unpleasant for both of us.”

“Reborn!” Tsuna exclaims turning to him for help? Assurance? 

Really, Reborn isn’t sure what his student is expecting to form him at this moment. 

“Relax, Dame-Tsuna, Shamal is a doctor,” he reassures blandly. 

Sort of a doctor at least. 

...Technically a doctor. 

There really isn’t any legitimate paperwork that can be used to back that up, but the forgeries are convincing if Reborn says so himself. 

“He knows what he’s doing.”

Probably.

“And he works for me so he knows that if he fucks up I’ll put a bullet in his ass.”

He says the last bit with a little more cheer than needed and Tsunayoshi gives him a wide-eyed blink. Reborn stares back steadily. Trying to project a calm he most certainly does not feel.

He really wants to shoot Shamal. The idiot had taken his dear sweet time to arrive with the backup. 

Though Reborn shouldn’t have expected anything else when he takes the womanizing idiot with protecting a beautiful woman. 

... Shamal better not have been harassing Maman. If she makes even a single mention about harassment or inappropriate touching Reborn will shoot the idiot in the dick. 

“You’re such a kind and benevolent employer,” Shamal snarks as he lets go of Tsuna’s hands and begins mixing the contents of small capsules together, “it’s so nice to know that you have my back.”

“Feel free to seek other employment,” Reborn states dryly. 

“No thanks,” Shamal fires back, as the small chamber in his hand lets out a loud hiss and a large flamboyantly coloured mosquito are released into the air, “I’ve checked. Competitive pay is terrible.”

Tsunayoshi starts flailing ineffectually lets out a shriek as the mosquito lands on his neck.

“GAH! Get it off! Get it off!!” 

“Relax,” Shamal grits out as he tries to stop the ineffectual flailing, “Think of it as a living syringe.”

“That’s even WORSE!”

“It’s just a painkiller!”

Reborn pinches the bridge of his nose. 

That headache is starting to return full force. And he hasn’t even gotten to the point of dealing with Bianchi and the aggravating spawn of Concetta Bovino. 

The brat lets out a pained little whine and Reborn only barely manages to stop himself from reaching out with his flames in a psychotic impulse to ‘heal him.’ 

It could work. 

No. 

Shamal already has him stabilized.

Perhaps he could heal him further. The damage to Inari’s arms is extensive. Shamal muttered something about the potential of permanent nerve damage. Reborn might be able to negate that if he tries-

But it also might result in over-activating the damaged cells in the brats arms and lead to them exploding. Or incinerating.

Burning off his body while Reborn watching helplessly on. 

No. 

No, he will save any further experimentation regarding this new development for a time when he is feeling more stable. 

Reborn doubts that Inari has the Lackey’s bizarre sort of luck and would be able to regrow his arms if the earlier healing really was just a fluke. 

Once is a fluke.

Twice is a coincidence. 

...

Three times is a pattern. 

* * *

* * *

_**The towering chalkboards before him are viscerally familiar to him. As is the feeling of the stick of chalk pressed between his thumb and forefinger.** _

_**Where-** _

“̨̟̍̈Isn’ṫ̥͂͜ ͇̒th̤̿iş̡͆̓ à̖̫̇ l̢̾i͔̿ttle ex̘̆c̖̈́ȅ̺s̉͢s̲͋į̣̈̕v̥̀e?”

“How ̢͔̃͊so?”

“̣̓Ỵ͘ou’͎̯̔̃ve ̡͌written ouť̢̘̎ ṯ̀he samȇ̗̲͛ e̲̘̔͐quátiȍ͈̪́n ̧̭̎̾ḷ͘ike͆͜ a ̨̙̊̿mill̦͘ḭ̟͑͆o͔̾n̜̝̈͐ tim̱͛̔͜e̮̬͊́s.͉̟̇͑”̲͡

“̝̫̎̅Have̥̪͊̊ I̫͂ rȇ̼a̞̾llý? ̜̜͞͡A̗͂r͙̊e ̺́yo̭̅u͖̮͊̇ ş͒ṳ͑re͕̘̓͂ ab̹͉̅͑out ͓͡t͕̫̋͛haṯ̒?̙͘”̭͌̂ͅ

...

“S̢̭̓͞üͅnshin̯̺̊͠e̺̿, Ǐ̞’m̺̟̉͞ ̼͓͛̃li̔͢têrall͙̽ÿ͎ ̗̕ALL Ȩ̾Y̩͞E̡̛S̜͘ y͔͘ou̩̿ ̧̳͌̕ca͕̳͒͊n’͚̖̐͊t ̧̹͆͗try ̳̓t͕͂o̭͌ ̩̅tr̰͌i̖̽ck me witẖ̢̛̽ th͉͋͞ͅat ̤͞kí̯nd of pl̝̣̒̈́ay̩͡.͔̠̅̀”

“I̛̟̊͟t͈̙̀̓’͎̻͗̋ș͔͋̾ ̩̖̂̈hard̠͚͂̾ly a t͔̞̾́rick, C̹̮͌̎o̹͉̎͡ntrol.̦̄ ͖́The ͚̉proo̙͑̍ͅf is in̦̽ t̳͠h͎̜͑̀ĕ̹͉͐ ̦̜͐͐va̽ͅr̻͞iables.”

_**There is something behind him.** _

_**An unnatural form rests on his shoulder. Immutability strange, but he finds himself leaning into the affectionate nuzzle.** _

_**What-** _

“Ẁ̲hy̺̋ ͕̂does i̬̬͒̓t̼̲͊́ ͍̺̋̂feeḽ̽ ľ͓ike ̣͖͂̎yõ̡͖̑u’̣̄re m̦̮͗͝ḕ̹̟s̮̟͘͡ši͖̣͐̀ng wi̖̣͝͝th ̲̌mé̺,͔̀ Sŭ̞ns̖̄hiń̪̜͝e?”̘͗

_**Who-** _

“̯̋Trû͈̹͘st͇̆ m͂ͅe, Cont͍̒r̨̉͢͞ŏ̜͕̂l, ì̦f̯̺́͆ I͔͇̕͞ w̭̭̔̇as mess̀͜ì̩̰͐n̳̈g̞̔ wi͚̜̿̏t̠͊h you ͙̹́̈́you͙͌ wou͍͘l̩̖̔͗d͔̎ ̬͖̎̾k̩̎nő͔w̻̓~”

“͖͖̐͊P̙͚̍́r͔̖̔̓om̨̬̌͡i̩͂s̱̿es͔̚, p̞̪̀̀r̙̭̅̓om͙̳͋̋is͎͠es͛͟.”

_**The equation is written in chalk across the towering boards again, and again, and again is unfamiliar and yet Reborn knows that it’s unfinished. Missing a key factor.** _

_**It’s written in his handwriting, and yet he cans for the life of him grasp the context of this scene.** _

_**He sees his own long fingers stained with chalk...** _

_**When-** _

* * *

* * *

Reborn’s head pounds. 

He looks down at his pudgy hand with its stubby little fingers and he feels ill at the sight of them. 

“You alright?”

He blinks and-

* * *

* * *

_**Long fingers.** _

_**The distance between his hand and the ground beneath is normalized.** _

_**There is a flickering of light in the corner of his eye.** _

_**He catches the edge of a pristine white lab coat as someone pushes past him.** _

“̝́Ar̫̀͟͡ê̘ ̖̮́͂ÿõu ͈͐h̥͑aving ̲͋s̖͘omė̢͕̈́ s̫̿o͎̥̽̓rt ͇͆of͚̳̌̎ a̢͐n̛͕͙͂êurǐ̗sm͔͛͋͢?̩̲̔̔ S̨̏top s͍̀tanding ̠͝arou̼͊n̙̕d ̖̰̉͒Renato w̧̰̒̐ḙ̛̮͗ hav̳̔e à̦ sh̾͜or͎̣͂̈t̚͜ ̼̱̔̈́win̠͝d̤̈ow of͙̲͛̃ ̳̥̂͝ó͍p̧̛port̮̾u̜̹͋͝nitý.̩͓̾̒”̟̼̽̕

“P̀̔͟͟lea̠̜͋̔se̫̋ dó͓n’ť̡ kǐ̡͍̆ll̼͗̚͢ Š̛̝͢am̞͊. I kno̞̎w ̨͋̃͟ýô̘ȕ͚ two a͎͖̅̍re͚͓̽̏ a͖̪͌̕ll hy̛͓͋͟p̩̩̊͠ed ab͕͆́ͅout t͖̯̓̚ḧ̪e SCIE̠͑͆͢NCE s͎̊tuff, bu̗̲̽̓ṭ̭̉͑ ̧̻̌̉ţ̳́͒hat̬̐ is̡͎͒̊ still ͚̝͛̓Să̩m̙̰̓͘ ̪̾̾͢in the͍̼̅̉rḙ̳̉́.̺͋

“Yĕ̟Á̼H, ̡́AsSh̢̓oL̞̀Es, ̦̓BE ̩̘͋̆gENtl̮̀e WI͚̕tḦ̲͇́ ḿ̮E͔͐!”̙̩́͌

_**It is the Lackey... almost.** _

_**When did this happen?!** _

_**Reborn hadn’t known them before THAT DAY.** _

_**So why...** _

_**Why**_ -

“Ș̣̒͐töṕ̧ ̖̻̍̓wȟ̤iǹ̳̙̔ing͍͓̽̏, Ĺ͇̞͡ac̨̢̃̔ḱ̬ę̛̘͋y,͖̚”̭̖̒̅

_Renato says as he wraps an arm around the waist of a figure made of static and gives an affectionate squeeze._

_**Butthisneverhappened**_...

* * *

* * *

A burst of sound and panicked shouts diverts Reborn’s attention across the chaotic space in time to witness the Sasagawa girl, Kyoko, throw a grown man through a previously unbroken portion of the gymnasium wall. 

Impressive. 

Though everything about the girl has been impressive thus far. From her handling of idiotic teenaged boys throwing themselves at her, to yesterday’s vengeance fueled rampage under the influence of the Deathperation Bullet. 

Reborn has also never encountered someone with a Sun Flame comparable to his own before. Kyoko Sasagawa, though still leagues away from his own mess, is the closest anyone has ever been.

He wants to see her succeed. 

If Dame-Tsuna starts trying to spout off anything inane like keeping her at arms distance to keep her safe because he has a ‘crush’ on her Reborn will smack him.

“Wow~” 

Though from the look of it that will hardly be an issue. 

“She’s so cool.”

Reborn stares for a moment before muffling a chuckle. 

“Du’n fe’r ‘get to ge’er nu’br, Tsu~”

They both startle, turning to Inari who has one eye cracked open looking horribly bleary and unfocused. 

Reborn’s heart lurches into his throat, his flames jump to his hands as that insane desire to ‘heal’ him returns tenfold. 

“Inari! Are you-“ Tsunayoshi starts, but cuts himself off as the brat abruptly passes back out. 

“...Brat.”

He restrains himself. 

The brat is fine. 

He’s fine. 

... Just so long as Reborn pays no mind to the swollen and angry burns fractled into his hands, arms... Reborn doesn’t actually know how far the burns extend, but Shamal had moved on so they can’t be too...

Shamal had moved on to work on Tsunayoshi. 

On Vongola Decimo who was the obvious priority in this situation. 

Even though Inari’s arms are so burnt in some places that the skin has turned black. Even though even in unconsciousness his body is tense and spasming periodically. Even though the voice in the back of his head is screaming at Reborn to get over his own issues and HEAL. HIS. BRAT. 

.

.

.

God damn it. 

“Is he okay?” Tsunayoshi demands his voice cracking in panic and desperation. “He was slurring like that before and that’s not right.”

“He’s fine enough,” Shamal grouses once again fighting to keep Tsunayoshi in place as he examines his arms, “He isn’t the important one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Tsuna snaps lurching to his feet with sky flame swirling in his eyes, “He’s my brother and if he’s hurt worse than I am you take care of him first!”

So they both are capable of that little trick. 

Reborn keeps his eyes on Tsuna even as he starts reaching for Inari. The almost primal urge to heal and soothe hurts of HIS SKY is starting to become overpowering. It’s matched equally in his growing desire to pack up all the ridiculous children that have apparently fallen into his care and take them away from this sorry excuse of a school. 

“Cool it, Decimo,” Shamal tries, “It doesn’t work like that-”

“IƬ ЩӨЯKƧ ƬΉΛƬ ЩΛY IF I ƧΛY IƬ DӨΣƧ.”

The emphasis in Dame-Tsuna’s voice is so jarring that Reborn freezes. He’s spent enough time around both of the brothers to have heard a full range of vocal inflections and emotional scores. But this one his with such a jarring sound and Reborn’s mind fills with a painful static. 

“I’m fine. I can wait. Please take care of Inari first... because even if you don’t think he’s important... he’s the most important person to me so please.” 

The fire dies out and Tsuna is left looking young and vulnerable and all of the fourteen years he is. 

Reborn really does have his work cut out for him with this student. An argumentative, lazy, belligerent teenager with honesty and drive that Reborn begrudgingly has to respect. 

That dossier really was a tragic piece of garbage. 

He wonders if Nono or Iemitsu realize that their heir has been so disconnected from his flames thanks to that ill-conceived, psychotically executed seal that without the physical boost provided by the Deathperation Bullet he literally burns himself with his own Flames. 

“Please fix him. I can’t stand it when he hurts.”

Lord save him from these aggravating brats. 

“Such a passionate plea,” Bianchi inserts suddenly and-

And Reborn is tired. 

He is so very tired. 

With everything else going on he had forgotten that she was there. That he, for some insane reason had decided it was a good idea to drag her along with them rather than doing the logical thing and leaving her incapacitated in that cafeteria-

* * *

* * *

You’rę̆̀͜ ͔̰̒̓too nǐ͈c̬̙̒̀e̱̗̽̓,͉̪͒̄ ̽ͅSunsh̩̺͡͝ine̻͈̽̚.̡̩̍͒ ̤͡

_Renato scoffs._

“̞͖͑́Ha̻̤͐͒r̹̮͋̔dl̯̪̋̕y, ̣͋Ì just d͚̙͒̐on’̟͘t li̺̤͗̊k͔̭̇͠e seeī̥ng poẗ̫͖̋è̬nẗ̫ia̦͐l̘̱̈̽ ̳͈͗̕ḡ̝o ̛ͅto wa̯̬͘͝s͙̊͆͢te̖̊.͍̄”̹͠

* * *

* * *

“-Devotion is such an attractive trait in a man, Decimo. It really is such a shame that you have drawn such ire.”

“What the hell are you even doing here, Scorpion?” Shamal snarks.

“I could ask you the same question, Trident Shamal.”

He has a headache. 

Reborn has never had such a terrible and persistent headache in his life. And this isn’t making it any better. 

“I thought you were still gagged,” Reborn grumbles pressing his thumbs into his temples and trying to stave off the pounding in his head. 

Has he inverted the expression of his flame type in a moment of heightened emotion and panic? Is that something that can happen? Reborn isn’t sure. He hasn’t gotten involved in any recent ‘Flame Research.’

Not since that debacle with Verde. 

Who is supposedly here as well? 

“That really isn’t what you should be concerning yourself with.”

“Stop talking,” Tsuna blurts out, “If you’re just going to be creepy please be quiet.”

“... A good heart, but you obviously have so much to learn, Decimo.”

Bianchi brushes her hair back behind her ear.

“How to treat a woman.”

She stretches her fingers.

“And of course not to show off your weak points in front of your enemies.” 

She lunges before Reborn’s exhausted mind can calculate her goal. 

She wouldn’t.

She couldn’t be so stupid. 

...

But of course, she is. 

Bianchi strikes fast. Raking her claw-like violent green fingernails across Inari’s mottled and bruised throat leaving three deep abrasions in the flesh. Which on its own would be concerning enough. 

But she isn’t called the Poison Scorpion for no reason. 

She goes in for a second strike as Tsuna screams, and gets no further. 

Reborn slams his foot into her side and sends her flying off of his brat. His ridiculous brat that somehow manages to make his life exponentially more harried even while unconscious. 

Restraining Bianchi is irritating as Reborn is once again viscerally reminded of the disparity in their sizes which he can usually look past, but feels so very, very wrong in the midst of this. There is no question that something has gone wrong with the construct at this point. 

He reaches with Leon hoping that his partner will read his mind and transform back into the restraint, but the form in his hand is that of the magnum. Apparently, the chameleon is just as fed up with this entire situation as he is and is pushing for a more violent solution. Reborn almost wants to cave to that. 

It would certainly make things easier. 

But...

* * *

* * *

“Sȯ͍̭̒fty̛̤̽͜” 

_The Eyes laugh._

_**Who are you?** _

* * *

* * *

Reborn swallows hard and floods his body with Flame. Giving him the power to hold down the young woman who he is, at least partly, responsible for. 

He doesn’t want to kill her. 

Call him a hypocrite.

Call him soft. 

Call him whatever. 

As awful as Enrico could be on occasion he hadn’t wanted the man to die either. 

He gets horribly, terribly attached to his students. Regardless of who they are and how they turn out. Reborn isn’t a man who ever gives up. He isn’t a man that gives less than one hundred percent. 

“Oh my darling Reborn,” Bianchi says salaciously as she drags a poisonous nail along the back of his neck, “Leave these tragic boys to their demise and run away with me. I’ll even split the reward money with you.”

He hears Inari gurgle and his breath halt and wheeze.

Bianchi tries to dig her nail in.

...

Reborn fires into her shoulder. 

Missing vitals, but undoubtedly ruining the bone and cartilage. 

It comes back to bite him in the ass every fucking time. 

“YOU CRAZY BITCH WHAT THEY HELL ARE YOU TRYING WITH TSUNA-SAMA AND INARI-SAN!?”

“What’s happening!? Why’s he doing that!?”

“It’s a seizure Tsuna. Don’t move him.”

“But-“

“All of you kids back the hell off!” Shamal snaps, “Reborn get me some of the toxins. I can make a counteragent.”

Reborn gives Bianchi a cold look and she swears and trashes. 

He tears off the nail from her ring finger and throws it at Shamal. 

And then he falters. 

Reborn doesn’t want to leave her to bleed out. He also doesn’t trust that if he moves she won’t try something equally stupid and detrimental to herself and everyone else around them. 

* * *

* * *

“̭̲̈͘Ha̰͔͐͌ve you̥̪̔̾ ͓̋èv̢̻͗̚ẽ̦̪͛r ̘̕t͉̂rí̛̞͟ed ̟͋to ̧̟̒͞c̥̚h̥͌aǹ͈ge b̺̮̐͑åck̥̏?”͍̑̉ͅ

“͕̔I.̱̗͐͝.. ̭͐u̯̎h͙̽͢͞... ̨̤̑̔n̟͉͞͝o̫͊͢͠.̭͠..͉̉”

“Ŵͅhy not͕͘?”̲̐

“I ͚͞jù͕͝ͅst..̭͛. ̬̈́sc̓͑͢ͅà̱̪͐red Ḭ̽ ̖̔güés͖̩̾͛s.͎̕”

“̙̉Scàr̳̮͌̊ed?͇͚̂̏”

_Renato nearly laughs at what sounds like a preposterous statement._

“̮̎Ye̳̎ah, I m̻̮̾͒ea̻̲͗͡n,̲͗ I̺̿ ̖͙̊͛ḱ̩̯͡n̲̈́o̹̽̀͟w̪̔ I’̮̠̀̄m s̝̄üper cő̗͉͒ol ̩̑̆͜an̫̄d ̺͠i̯̾͡ͅn͙͍̿̒t͇́imida̖͐͐ͅti̹̗͒͝n͖͑g ̢͚̓͒w͎̕ith m͓̺̿̍y near ͖͝ọ̔́͜mǹ͟is̺̝̓͘cien̫̬͋͒ce ̹̔ȃ͈̠̉nd̤̉ ̪͂thẻ̖ ̛͎w̪̄h̳̜͒̀ö͉̗͆l̯̕e hor̳͎͌͊rif̺̒͐ͅying ̻̖̇͠e͍͞yeball gi̻͍͗̽g,͍͂̕͜ b͎̾̄͜ut I’m sti̝̅ll sć̢̇ͅared͙̭͐̿.”̠̾

“O̯̔̏͢f ̩̏whḁ̤̈́t Mȉ͓ơ̜͕͒ ̧̅Car̦̍o?̯̺̃͠”

“W̫̝͑̀hat if͎͚̅͠ I ca͙̳͌̇n’t c̛͇͔͑h͙̄angé͇ ͂͢back...̻̌ an͚͝d̦̒ what̓͢ if ̝̒Î d͓̕̕͜ō̘͚͊... ̌ͅwh̳̀at͋͟ i̦͑f ͍̕h̹̀ûȓ̮̗̎t̨̻̆̾s?̮͔̉̽ Thi͓̟͊̈́ng̰̀s ḑ̜͒͠oñ̹̱͘’t ẖ̛urt like ̺̜̀̑t̪̺͆͞his͚̀ not͚̅ ͎̈́in th̢̬̓̑e p͍̯̽̅h̰̮͆̚y̨̔šicallỳ̧ ̯̿pạ̡͆͡i̢̊nf̭̿ul ̩̹͗͐kind̯̭̏̋ ̛̘̠̉of w̢̎͜͠h̛̖y ̭̠̈́͘a͚͂̔͟ñ̢̫͠d ̭̔̕͢that’̼̪̆͘s̖̬̈̕ the l͚̜̈̕a̛̖̳̚st̡͑̈͜ ͖̾th̔͟in͕͠g̣͠ I̝̊ ̫̳͊̚re̳̦͒̈alḽ̐y̜͐ rem̮̦̏͑e̘̅m͕̻͐͠ber̈͢ ̮͙͗̑fro̳̩̔̉m͍̈́ b̢͐ein̨͞g in ̤͔̑̌my ͕̀meḁ͒t̟̞̓̚ s̢̹̾̇ui͍̬͆̃t ỉ̝ŝ̬ ̫̅pain̛͎͙̾ and I ̛͚̾͜do̺͆n’̢̞̔͝t̗̬̓͑ ̢͍͒͝want͓͊ tǒ͚ do th̡̙̍̉a͉͠t ͒ͅagá͖i̪͌n̨͉̈̀. ̟̄I ͘͜d̮̔o̫͋n’t̡̯͑́ w̡̉an͉͉̆̑t́ͅ ť̡o b̹͋͜͡ë â̙̭̈́lon͔̕ȅ̫ ả̦̣̽ǵ̛̠͜ain..̰̞̅̊.”

“I’̮̯͐̐m hard̤͉̈́͝lỵ̨̛̐ go̜̐inġ̗ to̱͔̕͡ le̙̗̓͑av̡̙͋̆e͢͞ yóu, █͢͡██͇̀██“̫̎

“̪̮̓͝...̌͢ ̛̦Even if ͇͓́̇it ̼̎t͔͂͜͝ú̱̳̌ṙ̥n͍̋̕͟s ou̹͐t ̢͒t̼͑ha͙͂t ͍͛I’̧̲̒́m ̈́ͅh̪̗͊̆ḭ̠̋̚ď͕ḙ̻͂͝ouṣ̙͆̊.̹̰͛̐”

“I ̤̗͒͞ṯ̔hink ̠̏I mo͝ͅr̼͎̎͊e thàn pr̠̊̽͜ov̀͟en͙͒ t͎̟̋̀h̘̭̀̕a̧̍t̛͕͚͑ I lo͔̼̓͋ve͈̎ yö̺̭̔u ̌͢ṟ̾͟͝egard̮̦͊̿lês͓͛s õf phŷ̮sîc̳̀ä̟͖́̕l ̳͞måǹ̪i͗͢fê̱st̨̟̎͠ation.̙̠̊̓”

“Kay̹̦͑̆.̣̆.̗̓. I̼͖̐̐’̡̥̓̆m͕̎ s͗̐͢͜tiĺ̖̠̚l sc͓͍͗̊a̔͟red ̛̬͘͜th̝͓̒̅at ̨̈́it͙͠͞ͅ’̨̯̃̈s ġ̣̩̕oing̘̓ t͓̅o͚̗̓̉ ͓̫̏̓hurt th͉̩̏̾o̮̔͒͜ų̡͆̚g̨̩̋̈h̢̚.̠̓”͎̋

_He can’t leave him in pain._

* * *

* * *

A large pair of scared hands pass across his vision and press a coat against Bianchi’s bleeding shoulder. 

Reborn startles as he looks up at Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. Who looks back at him with vague recognition.

Which is something that he will concern himself with later. 

He leaves Bianchi in the capable hands of the retired assassin and rushes to Inari. 

The cluster of frantic teenagers and the absurdly loud cow child are all flailing about as Inari continues to seize. Shamal is letting out a near-constant stream of curses as he works to synthesize an anti-toxin.

“Fucking hell this is one of Lavi’s formulas isn’t it?”

Reborn block them all out as much as possible as he lays a hand on the back of Inari’s neck and breathes 

‘Don’t burn,’ he begs quietly to whatever deity may be listening. 

Before latching onto that unfamiliar feeling and letting his flames flow. 

* * *

* * *

The anti-toxin is delivered in such a harried scene of panic that Reborn doesn’t think anyone noticed that Inari had stopped seizing. That the toxic abrasions on his throat had sealed shut. That the ring of bruises had completely faded. 

Reborn leaves Bianchi in the ‘capable’ hands of the Vongola allies with strict instructions that she is to be transported to the Iron Stockade at the earliest convenience. Though he has no doubt that her father will be bailing her out at his earliest convenience. Not that Reborn is particularly concerned. Giovani Giorgio is only powerful in certain circles and unlike his daughter, he isn’t stupid enough to cross Reborn. 

Although the fact that his wayward son is quickly settling in Namimori may complicate things a bit. 

Another item to add to his list. 

Between Tsuyoshi and Shamal Inari is carefully tossed into the back of a food delivery truck along with the rest of the unruly brats (with the notable exception of Fon’s lookalike who stormed off to beat the remainder of the assassins into bloody pulps from the look of it). Reborn does his best to stay close to the brat. Every so often reaching out with another burst of Sun Flames. 

Each time surprised that nothing tragic has occurred. 

He looks up once to see Inari staring blearily back at him before falling back against Takeshi and Tsunayoshi. 

None of this should have happened. 

The fact that civilian children were drawn into such a dangerous situation will eat at him. 

The fact that he had been so woefully unprepared is not a mistake that he will allow to happen again. 

Reborn is proud of them though. All of them. Even after yesterday’s debacle he never would have expected ‘Dame-Tsuna’ to be able to adapt so well to such an intense and deadly turn of events. To be able to muster up his will. To take charge as a boss should. 

He knew the aggravating boy had some potential, but now he knows how much. And Reborn is even more motivated to train them all into the dirt. 

* * *

* * *

They are welcomed home by Maman, who receives eyes her children and their wounds with more levity and grace than Reborn would have expected. 

She also listens attentively to Tsunayoshi’s extravagant excuse of a gas leak in the home-economics room and all sorts of other ridiculousness with nods and affirmations and praises of how proud she is of her boys to stay behind and make sure everyone got out safely. Strange, if only for the fact that Reborn knows that the woman is fully aware of the assassins. 

She had watched him kill two of them in front of her. 

Sawada Nana obviously knows about the mafia but has not told her sons what she knows. 

Curious. 

But not something that he has time to contemplate. 

Because as Shamal sees to the finer points of Tsunayoshi and Inari's treatment, Nono calls. 

* * *

* * *

Four hours of cyclical conversations later, and Reborn is still exhausted. 

His head is still pounding. 

Leon has turned into a cold pack around his neck, that has only somewhat abated the pressure building in his skull. Reborn had briefly considered asking Shamal for some sort of extra-strength pain killer for himself. Just a quick exchange before the man was sent on his way by the dangerously smiling Maman. 

Then he considered how a request like that would go over and kept his mouth shut. Shamal knows too much about how Reborn's flames function not to be curious. 

What he needs is coffee.

... And sleep. 

He tips of his fedora and sets it gently on the desk next to his open laptop with a sigh. 

He has various e-mails composed and ready to be sent out to various contacts. Gabriella should be thrilled that he has more interesting work on the horizon for her, Andrew, and Marco. He knows she’s been bored with the work Vongola has been giving them.

At this point, Reborn is fairly certain that all of Italy knows that Gabriella is bored. 

Also open is Cassandra Della Rosa’s dossier which Nono had been ‘kind’ enough to send his way. It would have been more helpful if eighty percent of the file wasn’t redacted. But Reborn has done more with less. 

...

He needs to sleep.

A particularly painful throbbing in his head has Reborn doubled over pinching the bridge of his nose trying to stave it off. 

Inari lets out a sleepy little mumble from his bed and Reborn casts a quick glance over to make sure he hasn’t tried to shimmy out of the bandages again. He hasn’t the brat is still fast asleep like Reborn wishes he was. 

Like he will be just as soon as he knows he isn’t forgetting anything. 

Just as soon as he knows nothing else is going to come to blindside him.

Just as soon as he knows they are all safe. 

He listens to Dame-Tsuna and the cow-child bicker about something downstairs as Maman giggles. The smell of dinner cooking. The sound of the television. A perfectly ordinary household scene considering what preceded it. 

Reborn leans back and lets his eyes drift shut and lets his mind wander. 

Wander through memories of static that seem to contradict what he knows to be true. 

...What he believes to be true with the illusory construct augmenting or barring access to some of his memories. Though regardless he has never experienced anything like that before.

Not with such clarity at least. 

He doesn’t like it. 

He doesn’t like not knowing his own mind. 

Before it had seemed like such an inconsequential price to pay to be able to function properly in the body he was trapped in, but now he finds himself questioning. Because as viscerally unpleasant it to be in this form it is an untimely different level of unsettling to be lost in his own mind. 

Reborn continues to let himself drift into a numb haze of thoughts and images until he falls into a familiar pattern of mentally mapping wave functions along an infinite plane as he slowly drifts into sleep. 

.

.

.

And then his phone starts buzzing again. 

If anyone catches the terribly pitchy whine Reborn lets out as he is painfully jolted back into awareness he will deny it. He has a reputation to uphold and that reputation doesn’t involve whining like an infant. 

His phone continues to buzz away and Reborn briefly contemplates just shutting the damn thing off. 

It’s probably Nono with another update. 

It would be unprofessional to miss the call. 

Also irresponsible.

“Sì,” Reborn answers blandly speaking softly.

Not that the idiot on the other end of the line extends the same courtesy.

“WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?! I’VE BEEN FEELING LIKE I’VE BEEN DYING! AND IT’S YOUR FAULT REBORN I KNOW IT IS!” Skull screams like a banshee nearly blowing out both Reborn’s eardrums and his phone speaker. 

He really is going to need some coffee if he's going to live through this day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reborn.exe has encountered a corrupted memory file and would like to know what the hell is going on. Defragmenting is now in process. 
> 
> But in all seriousness Inari misses out on so much when he gets knocked out. Reborn an his many issues are there to pick up the slack~
> 
> And as always I love hearing from you all! So let me know Questions? Comments? Theories? 
> 
> Until next time~


End file.
